My Dog

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Pa was comfortably perched on his porch, as was his custom late afternoon on weekends. There was a hound dog laying in the yard.

His relaxation was short-lived, however, as a fellow soliciting for some obscure cause approached the house.

"Excuse me, sir," said he, "but does your dog bite?"

Pa looked up over his newspaper and replied in his laconic and exceedingly literal fashion,


As soon as the fellow stepped on the walk, the dog began snarling and growling, and then attacked him rather obnoxiously. As the man flailed around in the dust, he exclaimed,

"I thought you said your dog didn't bite!"

Pa muttered, unperturbed,

"Ain't my dog ..."