My dog is nice. Well, usually. He is big, and foreboding looking, with the added reputation of “chow” emblazened on his DNA, but he is nice. Most of the time. So as I meet people walking their dogs I call out “he is friendly!” to calm their fears as I watch their eyes dart to the left and right to plan an escape route with their pet. My announcement usually suffices and I receive a warm, friendly smile out of them as doggie greetings ensue.
Usually.
Yesterday my dog made me into a liar.