|A not-so-rough Collie who isn't the subject of this anecdote|
(Male dogs shed less in the summer than do females and look better on camera.)
Anyway, every visitor to my grandmother's living room wanted to pet her striking dog and would call out to her. After a suitable delay, she would usually oblige and glide over to accept her tribute.
But 30 to 60 seconds of stroking and patting would inevitably affect her stomach, causing her to look up at her admirer of the moment with what was assumed to be a beauteous dog gaze of gratitude and affection.
It was nothing of the sort. She was simply (spoiler) straightening her esophagus.
This was the moment at which I would start to giggle and grandma would bite her lower lip because we knew what was about to befall the guest: the reception of a loud belch.
Alas, this was before digicams and viral videos, or YouTube would be sending AKSARBENT regular if measly checks.