Life With a DoberDiva

From Life With a DoberDiva available on Amazon
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Banned from PetPalace
PetPalace! The canine equivalent of Bloomingdales! How I
adore the sights and sounds and oh, the smells. Oh, Oh, Oh.
On a loose leash I roam the aisles at my leisure, inhaling scents
from the rack of treats, sniffing each and every bag of kibble. My
nose samples the salmon, the chicken with brown rice and here’s one
with sweet potato. I do like sweet potatoes. I strut myself toward the
puppy beds. They’re so soft and fluffy with a nuance of cedar. Stuffing
my nose into the depths of the downy cushions, I fill my lungs with
the sweet aroma. The fragrant adventure seems never ending.
Rounding a corner, I am particularly amused by the brown
and white lady hamsters who spy me and scurry under their beds
of shredded newspaper. They think they’re invisible but, their eyes,
like licorice jelly beans, winking from beneath the shreds give them
away. Peek-a-boo, I see you!
The sound of bubbles from the fish department draws me toward
the pristine tanks. Grumpy oscars with over shot jaws, dramatic
black mollies and comical little clown-fish with their flashy orange
stripes, gather to stare from behind glass enclosures. They must want
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to play. In fact, they must really love me as they blow fish kisses.
Look Mom. Look how they school together and flee as one when I
bump my nose against their clear walls. And look at the lovely nose art
I leave for everyone to enjoy.
The parakeets chitter from behind bars, reminding me of Les.
How I wish he were here to help me shop. Les has such good taste
and always chooses my best colors. My, he would love these budgies.
And I imagine the feathered little hussies would like him too.
Here’s a huge aisle of toys, a cornucopia of color, chock-a-block
with playthings of every description. Oh joy! Stuffies, and Pig Ears,
and Kongs oh my. I’m in heaven! I fixate on a pink stuffed bunny. Yes,
she will do nicely thank you.
We pick out the bunny, some lovely oatmeal shampoo with undertones
of vanilla, a pretty purple collar and some bird seed for Les.
Mom tucks them under her arm while people come by and praise my
impeccable manners and demeanor, so befitting for the DoberDiva I
am. I allow ear skritches and cooing from my admiring public. Some
things never change. I even bestow a sweet kiss on the button nose of
one little girl.
I freeze. My ears perk to extreme perkiness. My tail aims toward
the ceiling. An electric current of excitement shoots throughout my
taunt body. Cheeks puffing in and out I can taste the tantalizing, irresistible,
hypnotizing — cat-air.
Trying to control my frenzied focus and edging closer to the
overwhelming aroma, I hear Mom ask one of the clerks, “You don’t
have cats here do you?”
The “C” word. I launch myself toward the cages of vile felines,
practically dislocating a hapless arm attached to my leash. Mom tugs
and places herself in front of me trying to distract me, but my head
dodges her, left, right, left again, under her outspread legs. She is
trying the Cesar Milan “Sttt-Sttt…” but it’s coming out as “shit-shit.”
Shame on you Mother, no swearing in PetPalace. Purchases go flying
upsetting a cage of feeder mice. Rodents scuttle in every direction.
The bag of bird seed explodes on impact, littering the slippery floor
with millet, peanuts and sunflower seeds. Trying to gain momentum
against the tightly drawn lead, I resemble Fred Flintstone as my feet
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spin and lose traction. Not a good look.
Staff members bearing liver scented treats, rally and try to lure
me from the hissing kittens. One robust clerk loses her footing in
the gooey mess and plops flat on her fat bottom, letting out a cry
of dismay. But what do I care? I want those cats! It takes two security
guards and one stout vet tech to haul my Doberbutt outside, my
leash trailing forlornly behind.
A bedraggled manager approaches both of us outside the doors.
Dusting bird seed off his once pristine navy smock, he states, “Madam!”
I hate it when they call her madam, makes me want to dress her
up in a red feathered boa.
“Madam, we encourage our customers to control their animals
when entering our stablishments. And I personally encourage you to
shop elsewhere in the future.”
Have I been banned again? First Westminster, now PetPalace.
Will this insanity never end? Never mind, maybe PetSmart has cats.