Religion is a smile on a dog.

Getting into the elevator in my office building the other day, a woman followed me in with a big, exuberant dog on a leash. As soon as they got in the elevator and the dog saw me it totally freaked, wagging its tail, straining against its leash, and just begging for my attention with every last ounce of its being.

Being a dog person through and through, I obliged and reached over to pet the guy, which, if possible, made him even more excited.

His owner, though struggling to keep him under control, seemed amused and said, “You look just like my son. That’s why he’s so excited.”

“Oh, cute,” I responded with a smile, still petting the frantic pooch, who continued to shower me with his winsome canine affection.

As I did so, the woman dug in her pocket and pulled out an invitation, handing it to me and saying, “Here’s a little event we’re doing tonight. You should come. My son will be there."

Um, ok.

“Yeah, see, I would, um, except I think your dog’s head might explode.”