“Just give me a comfortable couch, a dog, a good book, and a woman. Then if I can get the dog to go somewhere and read the book, I might have a little fun . . .”
― Groucho Marx
“They say that dogs are like their owners, part of their personality,” I joke as my dog nuzzles his nose up the skirt of an attractive guest. In truth, I am a little worried by that idea.
I had offered to drive a woman I had just met home. She was unaware that my dog sat in the darkness of the back seat and as we moved quickly through the night, he leaned forward and with no other sound, licked the back of her ear. I heard her catch her breath and then she stopped talking and became silent. A nervous uncertainty filled the interior of the car and it was obvious that she thought that I was behind the misdemeanor. Was she more amazed at the thought that I might attempt such an indiscretion, or the idea that I was able to do so while driving at speed?
“It was my dog,” I said to clarify the situation.
“Oh,” she replied, then said nothing more.
For all our cleverness, we are often unaware of the things that touch us.
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