Another venture into the weirdos that briefly intrude on my daily life and ramble inside my head for weeks on end…
Sunday morning, I got up and felt sorry for Moose because he was out of his food–the food that was pimped by the vet, “Hill’s Science Diet”. So I drove around Eugene (because nothing in Cottage Grove opens before 11 on a Sunday), I hit up Hirons and a little garden story, both of which, I was assured that they would have the large breed puppy food–or so the dog food webpage falsely professed.
Eventually, I come to the Mini Pet-mart, on Willamette. I was extremely happy to see that not only did they have the food, but they also had it in the bulldozer-size bag, because my dog can munch through one of those smaller bags in an afternoon. I sling the food over my shoulder and slug it up to the front; I grab a rawhide for the ride home (for the dog). Once at the counter, I make small talk until this semi-sketchy (as many Eugene-folk are) sees my purchases and raises her finger and says to me, “y’know, Science Diet has by-products in it… there’s a lot more sensible choices that can be made.”
Now, I’m a pretty knowledgeable guy when it comes to by-products, I’m by-product conscious type of person. However, it wasn’t the statement that rattled in my head, rather, it was that I was being given social demerits due my dog food by-productness, while this lady is buying two packs of cigarettes (side note: why does a pet store have cigarettes… I guess that’s the “mini” in the “Mini Pet-mart”).
I wish I could have access to the security camera footage because I think I stood there with my mouth left hanging open sitting in there in the wind, due to the hypocrisy that was apparently in ample supply that morning. In my head I was saying, “You want to talk about by-products, I’d much rather crush up my dog’s food, get some rolling papers, and smoke a pack of that every day rather than the cigarettes you just bought.” Of course, I’m a lot more gutsy in my head than I am with my mouth, so I just remained standing there, stunned.
After I regained my functions, I said to the lady, “yeah. ok.” and paid for my stuff as the comment-lady did her methamphetamine shuffle out the door. As I’m signing the credit card receipt, I ended my Mini Pet-mart visit with, “Yeah, well, my dog happens to prefer the taste of byproduct-laden dog food.”
Truly, life would be without that extra special glimmer, if it weren’t these people.