dianne salerni author
dianne salerni author

We’ve decided to change Sorcia’s dinner time, and she doesn’t like it at all.
Sorcia is usually a pretty agreeable dog. She doesn’t beg for table scraps; she doesn’t steal food, and she’s at least *partially* obedient.  Her usual feeding time is right before the family dinner, but we’ve been having a little trouble every evening with something we call the Farting Hour.
I’d heard jokes about dog farts before, but until we had our own dog, I never knew how potent they could be.  Every evening, around nine o’clock or so, Sorcia starts to let loose. The first sign is some member of the family gasping and hollering, “Oh, Sorcia!”  That’s the time to grab a sofa pillow and cover your nose – or maybe just leap up and leave the room.
And there’s never only one.  It’s a treat that goes on and on.
Since it always happens at the same time, I suggested moving her dinner back by an hour or two.  That way, the Farting Hour wouldn’t begin until we’d put Sorcia out for the night. My daughter Gina mentioned that, according to a book she had on training German Shepherds, the dog should be fed after the family anyway, to establish her rank in “the pack.”
So, I shifted her feeding time – and Sorcia let me know right away she didn’t care for the change. She started following me around the kitchen while I made dinner, butting my rear end with her head – trying to herd me toward the garage where her food is kept. Yes, that instinct to herd sheep is bred into the dog, and I wasn’t crazy about being treated like a sheep.
Maybe Sorcia didthink she outranked me!
Currently, I have to put Sorcia outside while I make dinner and we sit down to eat.  She watches us unhappily through the kitchen window, ears down.  In case you think we’re being cruel, the new procedure only shifts her dinner back an hour, so I doubt she’s starving.  She’s just lost the high rank she had in her own mind.
And for the most part, we escape the Farting Hour.