One day I was at the shop, idly watching a toddler throw an ice cream cone into our collar display when it hit me: I was a kind man.

For example, I didn't scream like a male howler monkey and throw my feces at the toddler's mother. And it would do nothing for me to yell at the toddler except release endorphins into my brain that would make me feel a lot better. And I didn't run down the street after the mother when she "forgot" to help me clean up the fetid mess her dough-faced progeny gleefully left on my expensive collar display.

Then the phone rang. It was from an area code I'd never seen before. It was something like 403. Naturally, I thought the worst and figured it was Spectrum Internet inquiring about my internet needs for the sixth time today from some place like the Korean Demilitarized Zone. I got the air horn out.

A woman asked if we sat dogs. I replied "We did not sit dogs- we were a pet supply store, not a restaurant. But if she went to....."

She cut me off and said she was kayaking next Saturday and needed someone to watch her dog for five hours because the Air BnB wouldn't allow her to leave the dog alone at the property.

"....our website and clicked on the blue box in the upper left that said "Explore Pet Friendly Boothbay"....

She cut me off again. The dog sitter had to take the dog. She didn't trust the sitter in her Air BnB for five hours.

"...once she was on the page, she should scroll past the pet-friendly accommodations and....."

She didn't NEED pet friendly accommodations! She already HAD pet friendly accommodations!! She needed someone to watch her dog AWAY from her pet friendly accommodations!!! GAWD!!!!! WAS I STUPID?!?! WAS I EVEN LISTENING TO HER?!?!?

...to the Pet Services Header, where I listed all the sitters, walkers, groomers, trainers, etc. in the area..." At this point, I should have just hung up on her. But as I've said before, I'm a kind man, and it was impossible to throw my feces at her directly or through the telephone.

I said firmly and slowly, "RIGHT BELOW THE ACCOMMODATIONS SECTION IS WHERE ALL THE LINKS TO THE DOG SITTERS ARE." Her cake-cavity was strangely silent.

I could feel understanding blossoming in that stultified little Stegosaurus brain of hers. She became less irritating and almost nice. She thanked me and asked for my website address again. I gave it and said that if she had trouble finding someone, to please let me know.

She thanked me and hung up.

It turns out that was a very, very stupid thing to say to a pushy, self-entitled lunatic.

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INTERLUDE

I must interject at this point. Who goes on vacation with their dog and doesn't plan ahead? Has every need of this woman been fulfilled by the kindness of strangers? Who just assumes there will be someone at their beck and call to do whatever needs to be done for her dog in a strange town at a moment's notice? Especially during the height of people vacationing in Vacationland?

And why in the name of Pigs-in-a-Blanket was she calling a pet supply store for someone to sit her dog? Was she calling from a sanitarium? Or was it a sanatorium? Was I being stitched-up by Anne B., noted Don-hater, and active one-star BBB reviewer? Did I have any friends left? If the sun was burning, why was there no smoke? The questions were definitely piling up in Boothbay Harbor.

***********************************

She called me back literally 2 minutes later. She said she checked with everyone on the list and they were all too busy to take her dog. Could I call my "SUPER SECRET CONTACTS for her???"

I smelled a rat. A big, stinky, rat using urban sophistication to hoodwink some backwoods yokel like me into doing the heavy lifting/sitting for her.

I asked if she called the dog sitter with the German accent. She assured me she did. What about the sitter with the larynx voice box? Yep. And the Zoroastrian? You betchya. Of course there were no such people on my list.

"Hmmmm... let's see," I said. "I think Bobbie Sue Lockjaw is out of the County Jail until her trial next month for Willfully Spreading Rabies at a School Playground.... And Eddie Clamflat is almost recovered from the ringworm and scalp parasites to....

"OH MY DOG!!!! I COMPLETELY FORGOT!!!!" I yelled into the phone. "THE DOG SITTERS ARE ON A SYMPATHY STRIKE WITH BOOTHBAY REGION PILE DRIVERS LOCAL 1847!!!! I AM SO SORRY! NO ONE CAN POSSIBLY CROSS THEIR PICKET LINES WITHOUT HAVING BAIT DUMPED ON THEIR LAWN!!! NO WONDER YOU'VE BEEN HAVING TROUBLE! ALL APOLOGIES!!!"

And then, as the English say, I "rang off" and attended to a customer waiting patiently at the counter to give me money in exchange for a lightly-ice-cream-stained dog collar. He didn't even demand a discount. My faith in humanity was restored.

The phone rang. And again. And again. The customer looked at me with one eyebrow raised. "Spectrum Internet," I said. He dropped his eyebrow and smiled knowingly as he pocketed his change.

The phone rang a lot more that day from Area Code 403. I got a couple nasty messages that morphed into a couple of pleading messages. I'm sure there's a crappy review for me out there somewhere. I hope it doesn't affect my pet-sitting business too much.

Why was there no smoke from the sun if it was burning? I'd better stop at The Newagen Seaside Inn after work and begin investigations.

~ Don (Not a Dog)

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