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A Day in the Life of...

The Pet Store Encounter

April 2009
by Deborah Lipsky

When I shop I am on a mission to go in, get what is on my list, and get out quickly with as few distractions as possible. It always seems that when you are in a rush you end up with either the slowest check-out person in the world with their "trainee" badge on or the almost nauseating overly friendly sales person similar to the "morning people" [you know the type who chirp a "good morning, isn't it a lovely day" with a Cheshire cat grin and are so cheery you can't stand it especially when you aren't fully awake?] that seem to have more "chat" than a chatty Cathy doll.

I stop at a pet store chain in Bangor that seems to hire those overly cheery people 10 times more potent than "morning people". I buy big "super worms" which look like mealy worms on steroids for my chickens as a treat. They are nasty segmented creatures that will bite you and eat thru the plastic container they come in. They put me in no mood to be cheery.

I am in the only open check out lane holding 2 tubs of worms with this huge panting, drooling Bernese Mountain Dog and its owner in front of me. The dog is the size of a pony. Why do dog owners take their canines into the pet store anyway? Do they take them there just to get validation that their pooch is the cutest in the world?? Well they won't get it from me as I am a cat person. Dogs have a tendency to sniff [and sometimes eat] strange poop and then want to lick your face. That is just plain gross. The world in my opinion is divided into cat people and dog people. I am a cat person and I am a firm believer that cats are autistic dogs. Cats are slaves to rituals [like autistic me] and if you don't believe me try this experiment the next time you see "Mittens" washing herself. Go up to the cat and pet her as she is grooming herself and watch their reaction. They have this annoyed look as they lick the spot you just touched [to wash off the cooties you just gave them] and then they start right back where they were before being rudely interupted.

I don't hate dogs [I grew up with one] but I do have a problem with some of their behaviors and their owner's expectation that you whole heartedly agree theirs wins in the overall lovable category in such an establishment. I can't fault the dog for wanting to be friendly either but Fido looks at me, slobbers some more drool and comes over to me as I pretend to stare intently at the vast display of different types of kitty litter hoping his master will get the hint that I don't want to shower them both with praise. However that doesn't deter Fido from doing the unthinkable to a cat person.......he attempts to sniff my crotch. The more I try to push his head away the more determined he is that I am denying him a luscious scent and he doesn't take the hint. The owner like many before him I encountered in a timid voice says "no no, bad dog" and then just looks on frozen into further inaction.

After about a minute which seemed like an eternity of me playing "patty cake" with the dog's nose I surrender and say in such a loud voice the entire store could hear, "Go ahead dog, sniff my crotch, get it over with so we can move on." I am amazed that the other patrons find my loud comment inappropriate when I am thinking the dog's action was inappropriate. . The owner in an attempt to break the awkwardness of the moment announces that his dog is a rare breed. To me a rare breed is a dog who doesn't sniff my "lady parts". I have a new found respect for small breed dogs whose noses can only reach up to your knees.

Not to offend those dog lovers who read this article dogs do have the upper hand on cats when it comes to potty times. Miss kitty known for her fastidious bathroom habits seems to delight in my freshly turned over flower beds in the spring. There she carefully digs a hole, makes her deposit, and buries her treasure. Cat poo is perfect camouflage with the surrounding dirt and her lightly covered "gift" blends in seamlessly with my potting soil. Like little booby traps I always manage to find them with my palms or knees as I am planting flowers. Even in winter they have mastered the art of burying their droppings out of sight and under unsuspecting husband's feet when he is snow blowing the driveway. Dogs in this aspect are much more considerate. They lack the kitty cat camo gene this regard. In the winter snow in the open you can see the contrast of the brown "dog logs" against a snowy white background. It's hard to miss. Then in the early spring when the grass is greening these "logs" transform into white porcelain like statuettes that don't disintegrate but seem to stare up into the heavens and blare out a warning that you are about to enter a doggie doo mine field. It helps unsuspecting pedestrians from stepping onto a dog log bomb.

Now the check-out lady makes up for my lack of canine appreciation and spends an inordinate amount of time baby talking to the dog. It is noon and I check my watch frequently hoping that she will pick up on the non verbal body language of "hurry up!!!!" She is oblivious to that cue so I try mental telepathy to let her know I am in a hurry but alas she isn't the "sharpest tack in the box" so I am stuck impatiently waiting my turn to be rung up. Finally when Fido the Bernese pony and his master leave it is my turn. The check out lady in a bubbly "Barbie" doll voice looks at me and says in a patronizing way, "I know what somebody [meaning me] is going to have for lunch........yummy yummy worms". I think to myself, "someone tell me why again that autism is a disability?". I conclude that she is either insane or obviously not autistic and I hope for the latter. Just to be safe I decide to humor her and play along but not set her off in case she is the former so with a straight face I reply, "Busted,.......... you got me. I am in practice for when I am a senior citizen and the social security system as we know it now is bankrupt and I am forced because I am almost penniless to eat cat food so these worms will have to suffice as Sunday dinners." Her jaw drops and she blinks a few times, quietly packs my creepy crawlies into a bag and whispers "Have a nice day".

I must confess I am perplexed by non autistic people who can be strange illogical beings especially when employed in the retail sector. I can see the allure of why on line shopping is becoming so popular.

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