Why I don’t get invited to many parties
An Italian restaurant in Glasgow, a few weeks ago. I’m there with my wife to meet friends I haven’t seen for months, and their friends who I haven’t seen for a few years. One of the latter group asks me about my dog, Megan.
Me: She’s a monster. She eats shoes, digs up the lawn, chews the wall…
Girl: Yeah, but they grow out of it. Eventually.
Me: I hope so.
Girl: My one’s the same. I have to keep an eye on her all the time or she’s trashing the place. You can’t leave her alone for even a second.
Me: It’s a pain, isn’t it? But they’re so cute that they can get away with it.
Girl: Oh, absolutely. I’ll be glad when she calms down a bit though.
Me: So what breed is she?
Long silence.
Girl: She’s my daughter.
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Comments
To be fair, there was more to her story than I’ve posted. So for example I did wonder how a dog would be able to switch off the TV, but hey! I was pissed!
It’s the fault of the person for saying “My one’s the same.”, leading you to think that their daughter was their dog. Hahahha… :)
Hey, she started the conversation. How is it your fault?
And her daughter chews the wall?