Crazy Pet People

About a week before Christmas, Dave and I wanted to check out our local pet food store to buy some catnip toys for the children.  What? You don't think of your animals that way?  Well, keep reading.  I am not the only one.

So this pet food store is one of those hippie type ones that is all natural and has about a million dogs running around at all times.  There is even a gate that you have to pass through just to get into the store so that the dogs don't get out.  This is good! I like this!  I love dogs like the dickens but can't get one due to apartment living and one cat who is a severe spaz.  So when there are a thousand of them vying for your attention and sniffing your butt as you shop, this is not an issue to me.  Hey! It's even a little fun!  You get goosed in a non-pervy way and only feel a little dirty afterward.

The issue was that none of their cat toys had any prices on them.  Easy fix...just ask the girl working there.  Who also did not know the prices of the toys so then had to ask another dude who was wasting time

working there who claimed he doesn't 'do' prices.  Ok.  So she then goes to a staircase and screams down that she needs to know the price of cat nip toys all the while I am being knocked over by dogs who are drooling like mad.

There were two dogs in particular, mini dachshunds who were to-die-for adorable.  I began cooing at them quietly and in a split second the shop girl was standing beside me, leaning in close to tell me that those two were 'her babies'.  Ok cool, I also call my cats my children, but only to people who know me and the whole world everyone who reads this blog.  Not to any old stranger on the street. 

She started telling us the story of how their lives became intertwined and how much she loves them, and how she took them for a ride on the subway the other day and how they were soooooo good!  Such good little babies!  This is still not even freaking me out.  I have many friends who are passionate about their animals and I think it's great.  It was when she picked one of them up and snuggled it close to her breast and whispered, "This little guy even has a nursery rhyme!".  She closed her eyes and began to sing:

"Piggy wiggy was a wiggle piggy!  Piggy wiggy was a piggle wiggy!"

Seriously?  I couldn't get out of there fast enough.  It was all I could do not to squeeze Dave's hand into oblivion to try and transfer all my laughter into the crushing motion.  Oh. My. God.  

Now, I am known to speak to my pets in a range that is glass shattering and sickly cutesy-wuetsy, by my god woman!  KEEP IT CONTAINED!