the complications of collars
Oct. 29th, 2009 06:40 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sisalikOh, that sounds like I'm gonna be talkin' bondage. Sorry -- just dogs.
A few days ago,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
bleukarma and I went on a multi-part all-day ADVENTUR, which included many trips to many shops. In one, I was looking for comforters, but instead I found a dog collar. A really nice one. A really really nice one. The D-ring was on the opposite side from the buckle, and it was made of two pieces of leather sewn together so that the inside was covered with a butter-soft leather. It was marked down from thirty-five bucks to ten. The only thing it lacked was a tag telling me how long it was.
So I used Dave's old dollar bill trick and measured it, estimating it at 24 inches. Fine, Riley's got a 20 inch neck, that'll work.
I brought it up to the register and asked if they had a measuring tape, because I wanted to double-check the length of the collar. The woman measured it - yeah, twenty-four - and then said, hmm, that's kind of short. The woman in line behind me agreed that it was short.
I can't remember what I said, something like "She has a big neck, that should do." This is when I realized that they thought it was a leash. Not a collar. A leash. Or maybe they thought it was a belt. I don't know, but the news that it was a collar was a shock.
Both women looked visibly dismayed. The one ringing me up kept the friendly going and asked what kind of dog I have. Boxer, I said. More dismay. "Oh," said one.
So I explained that she's a 60lb lapdog. Still with the dismay-faces. I further explained that she likes kittens.
"But not cats?" the woman behind me said, somewhat accusingly.
"What grown cat will put up with getting licked for an hour?" I asked.
The cashier finished ringing me up and told me that if the collar doesn't fit I can return it, which was nice of her. Then on the way out Bleu asked me what anyone would do with a leash that short and I had to explain tab/traffic leashes and the importance of Heel.
Usually, when I say I have a Boxer, people get excited. I may as well have said I had a pet wolverine, from the response I got. A pet bear, maybe. A man-eating tiger. I don't know. Bloody Stepfords. Dogs are not just small and cute, you know. Sometimes they're large and loyal and dumb and slobrous and make you feel safe.
... of course, I left the collar in Bleu's car and I won't get to see her until the weekend.
In related news, I ordered this in black, because I prefer the flat leash to the combo martingale lead.
A few days ago,
bleukarma and I went on a multi-part all-day ADVENTUR, which included many trips to many shops. In one, I was looking for comforters, but instead I found a dog collar. A really nice one. A really really nice one. The D-ring was on the opposite side from the buckle, and it was made of two pieces of leather sewn together so that the inside was covered with a butter-soft leather. It was marked down from thirty-five bucks to ten. The only thing it lacked was a tag telling me how long it was.So I used Dave's old dollar bill trick and measured it, estimating it at 24 inches. Fine, Riley's got a 20 inch neck, that'll work.
I brought it up to the register and asked if they had a measuring tape, because I wanted to double-check the length of the collar. The woman measured it - yeah, twenty-four - and then said, hmm, that's kind of short. The woman in line behind me agreed that it was short.
I can't remember what I said, something like "She has a big neck, that should do." This is when I realized that they thought it was a leash. Not a collar. A leash. Or maybe they thought it was a belt. I don't know, but the news that it was a collar was a shock.
Both women looked visibly dismayed. The one ringing me up kept the friendly going and asked what kind of dog I have. Boxer, I said. More dismay. "Oh," said one.
So I explained that she's a 60lb lapdog. Still with the dismay-faces. I further explained that she likes kittens.
"But not cats?" the woman behind me said, somewhat accusingly.
"What grown cat will put up with getting licked for an hour?" I asked.
The cashier finished ringing me up and told me that if the collar doesn't fit I can return it, which was nice of her. Then on the way out Bleu asked me what anyone would do with a leash that short and I had to explain tab/traffic leashes and the importance of Heel.
Usually, when I say I have a Boxer, people get excited. I may as well have said I had a pet wolverine, from the response I got. A pet bear, maybe. A man-eating tiger. I don't know. Bloody Stepfords. Dogs are not just small and cute, you know. Sometimes they're large and loyal and dumb and slobrous and make you feel safe.
... of course, I left the collar in Bleu's car and I won't get to see her until the weekend.
In related news, I ordered this in black, because I prefer the flat leash to the combo martingale lead.
