Purple Cloud Wars

The battle is on and I am going to win. 

Indeed the day arrives that a purple cloud envelopes my house and the quest begins to figure out the source of the pollution to my otherwise nice smelling home.

Just look at our handsome little Zane.  He's sleeping ever so peacefully without a care in the world.  Probably dreaming of finally meeting the neighbor's dog face to face and having a puppy play date.

Oh my lands!  I'm cleaning upstairs and the cloud envelopes me.  Holy cow!  I was always warned about the teenager funk smell.  (sniffs a little closer to closet and bed)  Nope.  The funk coming from my HH's room is not what my body is being trapped in.

He's such a nice dog.  Always happy to see us.  Always wagging that little nubby-nubby.  Always ready to head out on a walk or make sure the neighborhood kids know he is going to be an "obstacle" for their latest Nerf wars.  Hey...who doesn't need a helpful bark...or two...to let you know your opponent is near?

That smell!  Holy cow!  It's even in LD's room.  I look for evidence of food.  Out of either child...she'll be the one to hide traces of disobeying the "no food upstairs." She must have left something and now it's rotten.  (wandering eyes under the bed, beside the dresser, behind the books on her shelf).

It smells like the toilet hasn't been flushed...in an eon.  

There are days that I'm sure this wonderful Velcro dog o'mine

wonders why in tarnation he must stay behind while we head off on our various chores for the day.  Sometimes...that is just a little overwhelming.  He spends his day lying right in front of the door, nosed pressed against the crack awaiting that blessed moment that Princess Buttercup will sound the arrival of his flock.  Or maybe he'll leave that watch post for just a teensy tinsy minute and investigate the trash.

OK.  This is ridiculous.  I'm growing a little nauseous from the smell.  It wafts by in waves.  Where is the stench coming from.  I enter our bedroom.  Certainly, my quest for the purple cloud won't end here.  

PFFFFT! silence.  PFFFT! 

I peer down at my Velcro dog.

PFFFFFFFT!

Certainly not going to be him....

I lean down towards him.  From his characteristic little Aussie butt comes...

PFFFFFFFFFFT!  Grrrgggglllle.

The trash hunt was great.  Found some bacon grease smeared onto a napkin.  Maybe a few morsels of egg bits stuck within the empty can of cream of mushroom soup.  My time was well used.  Must move back to position of watch dog.

I can't believe it.  

Again.  

This dog has gas that could make the citizens of an entire city want nothing more than to evacuate from the insidious nasty gas that escapes his behind.  

If I could Febreeze him, I would. 

Clearly now all I can do is spray Febreeze after he passes by, 

pray the upset intestinal tract will dissipate quickly, 

and 

 issue gas masks to all who enter.