I was driving down a country road when I saw a sign: “Talking Dog For Sale.”
I drove another mile before I turned around. A talking dog? Really?
I pulled up a gravel laneway and parked next to the barn. An old farmer was working on his tractor.
“Excuse me,” I said, “but I couldn’t help but notice your sign. Is it true you have a talking dog for sale?”
“Yeah,” grumbled the old farmer. “He’s out back. Go have a look and tell me what you think.”
I walked out back behind the farmhouse and spotted a fenced-in yard. Behind the fence, sitting peacefully, was a mid-sized dog.
“Hello!” said the dog.
“Holy shit!” I said. “You really are a talking dog!”
“Yes,” the dog said. “It’s one of my many talents and accomplishments.”
“Amazing! What else have you done?” I said.
“Well I was first employed during the war in Afghanistan, and the army used my talents to sniff out land mines. I would go into the desert and sniff them out so our soliders could safely cross and keep the peace in the area.”
“Yes. And after a few years of that I was employed as an overseas diplomat of sorts, doing goodwill missions to many countries, lecturing for children in schools, and raising money for victims of malaria.”
“And then I realized it was time for me to return to my homeland, so I came back, earned a PhD from Harvard, and now I like to relax in the countryside here on this beautiful farm.”
“That’s amazing. Well, nice to meet you dog! I’ll be seeing you soon!”
“Thanks!” said the dog. “It was nice meeting you as well!”
I returned to the farmer, still working on his tractor.
“That really is an incredible dog. How much do you want for him?”
“I don’t know,” grumbled the farmer. “How’s ten bucks sound?”
“Ten bucks?” I said. “How ‘come so cheap?”
“Cuz he’s a fucking liar!” said the farmer. “He’s never even left the yard!”