Today, Shimmer and I were one of THOSE people.
Here’s the story: I needed to pick up cat kibble for our cats. A task Shimmer couldn’t care less about, except that kibble was involved. He’s a fiend for kibble: dog, cat, monkey—he’ll chow down on it all. So, he wasn’t exactly disinterested when I told him we were going to the store to get some cat kibble.
He had been inside the store with Joan before, so it wasn’t a new experience for him, but I was still uncomfortable with the idea. There was a sign that said No Dogs Allowed Except Service Dogs by the door, and it didn’t feel right to go in. Shimmer, however, just like any other customer, walked right through the automatic doors.
“Do you mind if I come in with the dog?” I asked the sad-eyed cashier.
“Everyone else does,” she said wearily.
Shimmer headed directly towards the Pet section, which he dismissed immediately. No interesting squeak toys, chew bones, or plushies. One dismissive glance and he turned around and headed back to the exit, giving me only a moment to grab a bag of cat kibble.
I told him we had to pay for it, which I did, while he studied the candy section, and probably thought of all the ways life was unfair. First, he had to go to the store for cat kibble, and then, there were no dog toys for him! Imbécilles!
I told him of course I’d help him write a complaint letter to the store about their terrible selection of dog items, but only when he learned to sign his name.
After all, I still have to shop there.