My wife and her friend Karen were talking about their labor-saving devices as they pulled into our driveway. Karen said, “I love my new garage-door opener.”
“I love mine too,” my wife replied, and honked the horn three times. That was the signal for me to come out and open the garage.
I was cleaning a hotel room when the previous occupant came in, looking for her husband’s keys.
We searched high and low without luck. I finally peeked underneath the bed closest to the wall.
"Don’t bother—that was my bed," she said. "He wouldn’t have gone anywhere near it."
Driving back from Vermont, I stopped at a vegetable stand. It was deserted except for a sleeping German shepherd.
I stepped over the dog, helped myself to some corn, then opened the cash box to pay.
Taped to the inside of the lid was this note: "The dog can count."