A guest post by Poodle Oodle, Editor of Poodle Times:  By, For and About the Poodle Community. You don't have to be a poodle to love Poodle Times. (An equal opportunity publication.)

So I was taking care of before-bed business when a dark stranger wearing a white stripe breached the back yard perimeter.  I bayed like a banshee and gave chase. He scampered away and I almost had him when I choked on an evil, clinging cloud of peeeeeeeeeyewwwwwww! Help! I bang! clang! clanged! the bell hanging from the door knob. 

“Ugh! What’s that nasty smell?” Mom screwed her eyebrows down, her lips up and her cheeks in, pressing her nostrils shut. As if that would help. “Peeeeyewwwww!” If she knew the answer, why did she ask? She slammed the back door shut. I ran to the bedroom and rubbed my head and snoot all over the bed trying to get the skank off. No luck uck uck uck. 

“God, what is that stench?” She rammed the bedroom window down tight. “It’s rolling in.” 

I ran to the living room and jumped up on the couch. Maybe the ruff ruff ruff fabric would get it off off off. Mom followed me, lip curled to nose and slapped shut the windows, “Please god! Blow it away soon.” Amen to that. 

At the office next morning, Mom’s face corrugated again, “Feh! Here too!” She checked all the windows. “Closed. Where’s it coming from?” She shrugged, “Let’s get to work.”

I led the way (that’s my job) to the patient waiting room—