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Yesterday, I was at my local TSC store picking up a large bag of dog food for my loyal livestock guardian. While waiting in the checkout line, a woman behind me glanced at the bag and asked, “Do you have a dog?”
What did she think I had—an elephant? But since I’m retired and have plenty of time on my hands, I decided to have a little fun.
“No,” I said with a straight face, “I don’t have a dog. I’m starting the Dog Diet again.”
Her eyebrows shot up, so I continued. “I probably shouldn’t, though. Last time, it worked wonders—I lost 10 pounds—but I ended up in the hospital. I woke up in intensive care with tubes everywhere and IVs in both arms.”
By now, the people in line were starting to pay attention. “The diet is simple,” I explained. “You just keep some dog kibble in your pockets and eat a piece every time you feel hungry. It’s nutritionally balanced, so it’s perfect for weight loss. I figured I’d give it another shot.”
The woman looked horrified. “Did the dog food poison you?” she asked.
“Oh no,” I replied, shaking my head. “I stepped off the curb to sniff an Irish Setter’s rear end, and a car hit me.”
The guy behind her nearly fell over laughing, and I’m pretty sure the cashier couldn’t breathe. Suffice it to say, I think I might be banned from Tractor Supply now.
Moral of the story? Be careful what you ask retired folks—we’ve got all the time in the world to come up with creative answers.
What did she think I had—an elephant? But since I’m retired and have plenty of time on my hands, I decided to have a little fun.
“No,” I said with a straight face, “I don’t have a dog. I’m starting the Dog Diet again.”
Her eyebrows shot up, so I continued. “I probably shouldn’t, though. Last time, it worked wonders—I lost 10 pounds—but I ended up in the hospital. I woke up in intensive care with tubes everywhere and IVs in both arms.”
By now, the people in line were starting to pay attention. “The diet is simple,” I explained. “You just keep some dog kibble in your pockets and eat a piece every time you feel hungry. It’s nutritionally balanced, so it’s perfect for weight loss. I figured I’d give it another shot.”
The woman looked horrified. “Did the dog food poison you?” she asked.
“Oh no,” I replied, shaking my head. “I stepped off the curb to sniff an Irish Setter’s rear end, and a car hit me.”
The guy behind her nearly fell over laughing, and I’m pretty sure the cashier couldn’t breathe. Suffice it to say, I think I might be banned from Tractor Supply now.
Moral of the story? Be careful what you ask retired folks—we’ve got all the time in the world to come up with creative answers.
Yesterday, I was at my local TSC store picking up a large bag of dog food for my loyal livestock guardian. While waiting in the checkout line, a woman behind me glanced at the bag and asked, “Do you have a dog?”
What did she think I had—an elephant? But since I’m retired and have plenty of time on my hands, I decided to have a little fun.
“No,” I said with a straight face, “I don’t have a dog. I’m starting the Dog Diet again.”
Her eyebrows shot up, so I continued. “I probably shouldn’t, though. Last time, it worked wonders—I lost 10 pounds—but I ended up in the hospital. I woke up in intensive care with tubes everywhere and IVs in both arms.”
By now, the people in line were starting to pay attention. “The diet is simple,” I explained. “You just keep some dog kibble in your pockets and eat a piece every time you feel hungry. It’s nutritionally balanced, so it’s perfect for weight loss. I figured I’d give it another shot.”
The woman looked horrified. “Did the dog food poison you?” she asked.
“Oh no,” I replied, shaking my head. “I stepped off the curb to sniff an Irish Setter’s rear end, and a car hit me.”
The guy behind her nearly fell over laughing, and I’m pretty sure the cashier couldn’t breathe. Suffice it to say, I think I might be banned from Tractor Supply now.
Moral of the story? Be careful what you ask retired folks—we’ve got all the time in the world to come up with creative answers.
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