I walked into the lounge room this morning and noticed the smell and thought, "Oh, poor Penny. She must have been sick in here. Or have diarrhoea. Poor thing."
But she looked fine, lying on the carpet eating her bone.
Wait a minute, what bone? She hadn't had any lately, only that one she buried in the garden days ago... At my not-so-quiet exclamation she took off guiltily through the doggie door. (Maybe dogs don't feel guilt, but that's what it sure looked like!)
Who'd have thought such a little bit of dirt would smell so bad?
After about half an hour she took a rest from chewing and came inside, so I popped outside to take a photo of the bone for this post. But I'd have needed Olympic speed to make it to the bone ahead of her. She grabbed it and raced off to bury it.
It seems as if the doggy logic failed at this stage, as she didn't mind my photographing the work.