This was back in the early 90’s when I was still married and was trying not to smoke around my kids or my wife. It was a bit of a struggle.
Really, the only time I could actually smoke was when I was walking the dog. It was just me and him, walking down the sidewalks of Westwood with me puffing away—me and man’s best friend.
Sometimes I would walk that dog 50 times a day. Sometimes, he would look at me begging not to go for another walk but I could usually talk him into it.
He died of stomach cancer, not lung cancer, so I don’t think the second hand smoke had anything to do with his death.
Since that time, I’ve owned a few cats, but they don’t seem to understand the walking and smoking stuff. They just don’t get it.
So, I’m no longer married and no longer have a dog. It still feels a little strange to be walking and smoking all by myself, so if any of you want me to walk your dog while I’m smoking, just give me a call.
(Image found on Google)