Bob walks into a bar after a long day, the kind of place where the lighting is low, the conversations are half-finished, and nobody is really surprised by anything anymore. He takes a seat and notices a man next to him with a calm-looking dog lying on the floor. The dog seems relaxed, well-behaved, the picture of loyalty and discipline. Bob, being cautious but friendly, strikes up a conversation.
He nods toward the dog and asks, casually, whether the animal has ever bitten anyone.
The man answers with confidence. No hesitation. No explanation. Just a simple “No.”
That should have been the end of it.
Except it isn’t.
Without warning, the dog leaps up and clamps its teeth onto Bob’s arm. Chaos follows. Bob yells, the chair scrapes backward, and suddenly everyone in the bar is paying attention. Furious and confused, Bob turns to the man and shouts that he was told the dog had never bitten anyone.
The man looks at him calmly and says, “I know. That’s not my dog.”
