The grooming shop was across from the newspaper office where I worked. Every morning the furry customers would arrive, some cheerful, some unhappy, some hostile.
Slowly, inch by inch, they made their way to the door. He opened it and the poodle ran in. The boxer, however, renewed its efforts to stay outside by clawing at the door.
“Nice dog,” I said to him.
“It’s my wife’s,” he said.
“How did you know I wasn’t talking about the boxer?”
“You’re not even funny.”