I rushed out the front door yesterday morning, keys in hand, hoping the old Chevy would start. Across the street I noticed a lady walking a lab mix of some sort. Momentarily stunned by my affinity for black, four legged creatures, I initiated a silly conversation.
“Your dog looks JUST like my dog!” I exclaimed.
She nodded her head.
“Except for the white spot on the chest,” I continued.
“Well, and your dog is actually quite a bit taller,” I said, trailing off, realizing that her dog didn’t look much like our dog at all.
A few minutes later, huffing the fumes from my 62-year old stovebolt, I questioned my tendency to strike up completely meaningless exchanges with people.
Hopefully I’ll see her again someday when I have Woody with me. Then I can clarify, in detail, how much our dogs don’t have in common.