Warning: This entry contains dog farts

[glenbolake]

Yesterday morning, my mom make oatmeal pancakes. She gave me 4, which was far too much because the oatmeal makes it very filling and I have a small stomach to begin with. As usual, I put butter and syrup on, in that order. The butter is the important part; it was this kind. I went back to bed after eating, because that's the lazy kind of guy I am. Anyone who's reading this probably knows that already. An hour or two later, I woke up to hear my mom yelling up that the butter was gone. Apparently we both thought that the other person put it back in the fridge, and now only the lid was left on the table. The younger of my two dogs, Stitch, has been getting into the bad habit of jumping onto this table, which has chairs the height of bar stools. Jack Russells are like Tigger that way. In any case, my mom and I spent a while looking for the butter, just in case there was any left. It eventually turned up in a little nook next to the fridge... completely empty.

Now comes the part about dog farts. I came downstairs today at about noon and my mom started calling Stitch "Butterbutt" in conversation, explaining that the butter he had eaten the previous day was coming out in a very smelly way. These dog farts were particularly foul. I left the room before he had a chance to let another one out. My mom is an interesting character.

Sorry for the pointless and anticlimactic entry.