A little while after my mother was widowed, it became apparent that she was unable to open the garage door by herself.  Being the macho man that I am, I've decided to install an automatic door for her.  I worked very hard on my project. Very proud of my achievement, I gave the remote control to my mother and said, "Here, Mom, you open it."

After she gingerly pressed the button, the garage door slowly started to move upwards, making the usual chug-chug-chug sound.

All of a sudden, the chugging was interrupted by a loud "Squeal! Yelp! Yelp!!"

Bewildered, we looked under the garage door. Standing on its hind legs and frantically waving front paws was the family mutt. My mother tied the poor dog to the garage door's handle.

Instead of lowering the door, my mother tried to free the almost-hanging pooch from his collar, the remote control firmly clutched in her hand. I was rolling on the grass laughing. I finally wrestled the remote from my mother, lowered the garage door and freed the dog.