Downtown Doggie: Part 1

s we all know, or, at least, as we all should know, extreme specialty shops are usually run by crazies. (Now, as much as the term "crazy" get a negative connotation, this is not meant to be offensive. After all, most of us are "crazies" at some point in time. Speak ill of Scott Bakula? Meet Laurel’s wrath. Deny the overarching socio-political importance of Bruce Willis’ film choices? I breathe fire. I could probably open a store devoted entirely to yarn and "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" memorabilia, but that wouldn’t exactly make me normal. And, thus, you can pretty much guarantee that anyone willing to use 1,000 square feet solely for porcelain doll heads and antique figurines gives each item a voice at closing time and reenacts various scenes from the golden age of television in the dark, dialogues between Mary Tyler Moore and Ed Asner being a ready favorite.) So, as I was wandering in Chicago, attempting to find my way and learn the streets, I stumbled upon my first designer dog boutique. Projecting/fearing that Cassidy is unhappy with my decision to uproot her from Southern suburban existence for life in a 4th floor walk-up with a noisy nearby train, I went inside in search of a rawhide bribe. And, that’s when I encountered your requisite crazies. After all, I should also mention that this was around 3:00 in the afternoon, and, again, the "normals" should be at work. Well, it seems that a lost dog had wandered near the vicinity of the dog boutique and quickly been abducted into the world of the animal-loving, concerned pet store owner and friends. This is when I learned that it takes 5 grown women to determine what to do with a lost dog. The conversation inside went something like this: "The tail curls a bit like a poodle mix." "That’s true. But I definitely thought ‘samoyed’ when I looked at her." "Wait...Did anyone check to see if it is a her or a him?" "The hair seems matted. I don’t think it’s well groomed." "Try putting a collar on it. That way it can’t run away." "It seems to take to the collar. I think that means it’s a house dog and not a stray." "I bet the fireworks from 4th of July scared it. That’s probably why it started running away." "Should we make posters? I could run to Kinko’s right now." "I don’t know. Maybe we should look for posters. Or ads. If it is a house dog, someone is looking for it." "I’m going to call the police." "Do the police handle lost dogs?" "Let’s give it treats." "No, not treats. It looks too hungry for that." "I think it’s malnourished. It could have been wandering for days." "Soft food or hard food?" "Always soft food. I think something with lamb. Most dogs aren’t allergic to lamb. It’s different from chicken that way." "Have the police picked up?" "Should we be calling the SPCA instead?" "Oh, look...It’s eating so well. I guess it hasn’t been too traumatized. That alleviates a lot of my fears." "Does anyone else think the dog’s part golden retriever?" And on, and on, and on... I had to leave with my $2 sausage treat before they recruited me for the task force. And, to think that the time I found a lost dog, I brought it to my apartment and then called the number I saw on the flyer with the dog’s picture the next day. There was so much more I should have considered. I guess I’m not as much of a dog person as I thought I was. (Although, I do think this little experience was a good cautionary tale before I put too much time into that yarn/vampire slaying enterprise.)