Our Saturday mornings.

February 12, 2013

Our Saturday mornings tend to be pretty predictable (though I'm begging my husband to mix things up these last few Saturdays we have to ourselves). Chris goes on a bike ride with friends, and to keep myself from not getting too bored or antsy, I try to be productive. I have a cup of coffee and breakfast, I clean up around the house, or I take care of any projects I've been working on.

This last Saturday morning, I decided to make an appointment for our dog, Mia, to get a bath. It's been a while and I wanted her to be fresh and her nails to be short before the baby joins us. We do this every six weeks or so, so it's nothing new or out of the ordinary. One would think


Come 10 a.m. on Saturday, I loaded her in the car. She absolutely loves car rides, so "loading" involves telling her we're going on a ride, her running outside and jumping straight into the car with no effort on my part. We drove down to PetSmart and she hopped out of the car, collar and leash firmly on, and we walked inside. (This is where I let you know that she hates the vet and the groomer. It's a struggle to get her in the rooms, but always manageable.) About halfway down the middle aisle, she started figuring out where we were going. I held her leash a bit tighter and started to open the groomer's door. 

And then she squirmed out of her collar and jetted right back down the middle aisle directly through the automatic doors and into the parking lot. 

I just stood there, leash in hand. Part of me was thinking, "Surely she won't run all the way out of the store. I'm sure she'll stop." Except she didn't and I watched her dart through people, dogs and carts in very slow motion. The other part of me was thinking, "Please, God, let someone stop her so I don't have to haul my huge belly down the middle of PetSmart." And no one stopped her.

Three PetSmart employees ran after her, yelling, "Dog! Dog!" And I picked up a brisk pace and walked as fast as I could down the middle aisle, turning it into a brisk jog as I neared the door. What does one do with a nine month belly?

Now with Mia, I know she's scared of cars and parking lots (and bikes and trolleys and empty grocery carts and anything that has the ability to move). I knew she wouldn't run out into the middle of the desert never to be found again, but the PetSmart employees did not know this. And the poor people were completely panicked as Mia cowered under cars completely out of their sight. I saw her and called to her, "Get in the car!" Sure enough, she darts straight into the car.

The PetSmart employees, out of breath and panting, confirmed she was back with me and went back inside to, I'm sure, talk about that pregnant lady who can't control her own dog.

I sat in the car, my belly going wild and Mia curled up in the backseat acting like nothing out of the ordinary had just happened. I called Chris, but of course, he was still riding. (I may have cursed the fact that he was riding at that very moment.) I then called the store from my car and told them I had to cancel my appointment because my dog just ran out of the store and I'll have to bring her back with my husband who can physically carry her in for me. But then they asked if I wanted them to bring out a cart for her. Yes, please come take this dog against her will.

Another nice PetSmart employee (I'm sure I had met them all by now) came outside with an empty cart. The smart dog was not about to get back out of the car, so the nice lady climbed into the backseat and physically took the 40-pound dog out of the backseat and placed her into the cart. I held her down while the nice lady pushed the cart. 

We walked in to the store, patrons exclaiming, "Oh, good! You found the dog!" and "Is that the runaway?" Yes. I am that dog's owner.

I dropped Mia off as fast as I could and walked straight out of the store, swearing Chris to pick-up duty.

So on that note, dear husband, I'd like to mix our Saturday mornings up a bit.



Pin It!

1 comment:

  1. Everything that could be embarrassing is excusable with a 9-month belly! I'm glad they could help you and your crazy doggy.

    ReplyDelete

Please leave your email so I can respond directly to your comment! I read each one and your words are much appreciated.