As a column writer, I can share my real-life experiences with countless people. This is much more rewarding than when I try to tell a story firsthand to friends. Here’s an example of something that happened the other day …
I took my dog Toby for a walk and about a third of the way around the lake, he decided it was too cold and snowy, so he took off back to the shopping center where I had parked the car. A woman walking out of Kroger, where I usually shop, said she saw my companion run inside the store when the automatic doors opened. I went to the service desk and told the lady that my dog was somewhere inside. She said, “OK, I’ll make an announcement to see if we can locate him.” Then she asked, “What kind of a dog is it?” This struck me as very funny. I guess they didn’t want to hand over the wrong dog.
In any case, this is the kind of story I love to repeat, so first I called my buddy Bob. He chuckled through the part about Toby running into a supermarket. “And listen to this,” I said, trumpeting the forthcoming hysterical ending, “the woman at the service desk wanted to know what breed he was before she got on the PA.” I waited for the laughter. But instead Bob said: “That’s odd. Do you think Toby knows he’s a beagle?”
HUH? What does that mean, Bob? I tried to explain the reason the last line was funny, but there was no point. Eager to share this whimsical tale with someone else, I called my friend and editor, Heidi. I knew she’d get a kick out of it.
“I was walking the dog around the lake yesterday…”