Our three dogs are a big part our life and have become our faithful traveling companions. Our oldest, Peekachu, drove (actually she only rode) the 12,000 plus miles to Alaska and back—usually cradled in my arm or curled up in my lap. She was a puppy at the time and weighed less than 3 lbs. Since then we have acquired 2 more. All three are Brussels Griffons and their combined weight is less than one medium size dog. The 5 of us are quite comfortable traveling as a pack, me as the Alpha dog—or so I tell myself. From a dogs perspective it must be quite the life of leisure, following your nose from place to place—although, I usually follow a map. When traveling in a small motor home the living quarters are tight, and not much gets by unnoticed—inside or out.
Our dogs are savvier than most 2 year old kids—potty trained, a mind of their own, and fully dog functional. Limited only by how high they can jump or climb, they enjoy a world they believe revolves around them. There is never hesitation or consideration of consequences when they bound on the dashboard or other structure tall enough for a dogs’ eye view. They ascend to the closest window at Superman speed and damn-the-torpedoes attitude while scrambling to wherever gets them the best vantage point.
One evening, after a long day of driving, we stopped at an RV park. Our friends Jim and Susan joined us for dinner. The dogs were fed and we were enjoying a light conversation as night fell. It was a quiet location—woodsy and secluded. There were rabbits and various animals scurrying about trying to find their nights lodging. Our dogs were sitting on the dashboard curiously watching for something to move, and only occasionally did they get excited enough to bark. Before long, a rabbit meandered from the front of the coach to the side where the four of us were enjoying the peace and tranquility of nature. Like opening doors at Wal-Mart on Black Friday, all three dogs leaped off the dashboard at breakneck speed, heading for the table where we’re sitting. I caught one when she jumped onto the seat and my wife snagged another in mid-air, but Peekachu made it through the blockade. She landed on the table top, sliding into the window where she barked and simultaneously farted. We all looked at each other, breaking out in laughter. After sharing fart jokes for several minutes we decided there should be a word that describes what happened, and that it should be part of our lexicon. The natural line of logic brought us to a combination of the words bark and fart—or bart.
bart (bärt) Vulgar. Slang .intr.v. bart•ed, bart•ing, barts 1. The act of barking and farting simultaneously. 2. A harsh, abrupt sound uttered by a dog combined with an audible discharge of intestinal gas.
(footnote)At the time of this writing the folks at Merriam Webster Dictionary haven’t responded to my suggestion.
