I'm putting this message out into cyberspace in the interests of saving you and your loved ones from a painful death by asphyxiation:
Never -- and I mean the kind of never where you don't even let the thought of doing this cross your mind and if it does cross your mind, like right now, for instance, immediately go and remove your brain from your head and wash it in an 80:20 water-to-bleach solution; allow brain to air-dry and return to head, resuming thought processes as normal -- give hot dogs to your canine companions.
It is a very bad idea. Especially if you give hot dogs to your pets and then you have a daughter aged approximately 12 years who comes along after you and feeds the dogs one or two or maybe ten more franks so that their digestive tracts are thrown into some kind of turmoil that could probably rate as high as 3 on the Fujita Scale used to measure the velocity of tornadoes.
Lest you worry about our dogs, let me say that they appear completely unconcerned about the havoc they're wreaking on the rest of us. The only signs of emotion we've seen from them are happy little sighs as they silently release some interior pressure into our midst, sending us running for smelling salts, gas masks, Vectron's emergency help number and our Bibles so that we can check Revelations to see if this noxious cloud is a sign that the Apocalypse has been ushered in.
The only thing I wish is that my mom was here to share this with us because for some reason, dog farts always make her laugh really hard.
She's going to be so mad at me for saying that.
And also for typing the word "fart," which she calls "the eff word."
Anyway, to summarize: dogs + frankfurters = vile stench that is so thick, you can almost taste it, heaven help you. And us.
I know it's just hair, but I still might cry. - I was wandering Target last night (a perfectly acceptable Friday night activity) when Annie sent me a text. It was a brief conversation: [image: photo f93ab...
4 days ago