Lies of Omission

Clearly, whoever uttered the words “no more Mr. Nice Guy” has never encountered my husband. The man is like a malfunctioning gumball machine; dispensing shiny balls of kindness to every stranger we meet. 

We were taking a walk in our neighborhood when another couple approached, proudly walking what was allegedly a dog, though it looked more like a cross between Linda Evangelista and an opossum. Despite his incredible height, the poor animal’s head was no bigger than a walnut and his bulging eyes looked like they were being squeezed from the inside out.
 
“That is a beautiful dog!” my husband exclaimed to the couple, who nodded smugly as if to say, “Well of course Lars is beautiful. He’s a Skinner-Froggen-Rat, one of God’s most magnificent creatures.”
 
When the couple was out of earshot, I whispered to my husband: “Beautiful dog? You LIE!”
 
“That was not a lie,” he explained. “I said ‘That is a beautiful dog to you.’”
 
“Except that’s not what you said.”
 
“The ‘to you’ part was silent.”