I learned two things last night: one, that we were out of topical flea goop, and two, that Riley's rear assembly looked like Ellis Island for bloodsucking parasites. So I stripped down to underpants and shoes and I bathed her (and she got water up my nose and all over me and on my glasses and dog shampoo in my ear) and after I dried off my mom said it was revenge for when I was three years old and splashed so much she had to wear a swimsuit to bathe me. Har har.
So, today, Riley and I went to the pet store (because there's so few places I can take the great oaf) to pick up a new pack of flea goo, and to see if they had those tag silencers. They don't, by the way. Nobody does. I'm going to have to homebrew a set.
As soon as we got into the store Riley found her first victim. Kid coming in behind us stared at her and smiled sorta shyly and I asked if he wanted to pet her, and he said he had a Boxer too while Riley sniffed his hands and got butt itchins. Then she was distracted by BOSS THEY HAS A WHOLE WALL OF COOKIES OVER HERE I JUST OPENS ONE FOR ME OKAYS AND YOU CAN HAVE ONE TOO IF YOU WANT and we had to go look at the collar stuff. But before that could be done, two squealing women came out of a side aisle and OOH OOKIT THE IDDLE BOXER SHE'S SO KYOOOOTE and they descended upon her like, well, like the fleas on her butt. After we shook them off, I looked at collars and Riley sat like the well-behaved dog she pretends to be when we're out in public.
Riley: BOSS, THEY NICE BUT I GLAD YOU DOESN'T TALKS LIKE THAT.
Me: I am too. I'd hurt my own head.
I asked someone where they kept the flea goop - behind the counter - and if they had tag silencers - I'm sorry ma'am what? - and then I wanted to go look at the fish so we did. On our way across the store Riley eagerly sniffed every bag of food stacked everywhere, because she is a starving baby who hasn't been fed since a year ago, and then. Then.
Then she saw it. It was a stuffed toy shaped like a wolf, on top of a stack of kibble, right at her eye level. She glared at it, and it glared back. The hair down her spine went up, and her nub stuck straight out in the back. It glared more. She kicked her heels like a bull. It stared. She put her ears back and growled. IT KEPT STARING. Riley, who don't take this kinda guff from nobody, went BURRROOWRRR BARK BARK BARK YOU SONOFA -- OOOF -- BOSS NO THE STUFFY LOOKED AT ME WRONG I HAD TO I HAD TO I -- I SMELLS A FISH. FISH ARE TINY, BOSS.
So then we wound around back to the front of the store - CAN I HAS THE BULLY STICK? OOH, CAN I HAS THE GIANT BEEF LEGBONE AS LONG AS ME CAN I PLEASE OOOH I SEE TENNIS BALLS - no, Riley, no, you can't - and got to the counter. I asked for a pack of flea stuff, and Riley saw bunnies.
Riley: BOSS THEY HAS BUNNIES OVER THERE AND A BIRD I WILL GET THEM SO WE CAN EAT THEM.
Me: No you can't.
Riley: BUT I CHASE THEM AT HOME.
Me: That's different.
Riley: DIFFERENT HOW?
Me: I don't have to pay for the ones at home.
Riley: PAY? WHAT'S THAT GOT TO DO WITH A BUNNY? YOU PAY WITH THIS THING? I SMELLS IT. EW. TASTES LIKE PHONES.
So I'm wiping Boxer froth off my debit card on my pants, and my idiot dog is sitting at my side WHINING LOUDLY in the general direction of the bunnies, and the pimple-festooned kid ringing me up is all, dude, I'm 17 and I'm cooler than you will ever be. Whatever, kid. I may have the Rain Man of dogs, but she probably gets more female attention than you do.
Riley: WE CAN'T LEAVE WITHOUT A BUNNY.
Me: Yes we can.
Riley: NO WE CAN'T.
Me: We are. Right now.
Riley: YOU NO FUN.
Me: Look, the car!
Riley: I CALLS SHOTGUN!
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