Shopping with dogs
Well, today we went shopping with the Chihuahua. It really wasn't in our plans to stroll down Main Street and stop in little shops, dog in hand, but even though it is mid-January, it was also mid-80's today. We couldn't leave her in the car.
I have lived in this little town for almost 17 years. In all that time, this is the friendly quotient on Main Street: ZERO. Yes, I live outside of San Antonio, the most wonderful and most friendly city in Texas. Yes, I love my neighbors and friends in my little town. But, MAIN STREET is another story. The powers-that-be have turned our hometown into a picture postcard spot worthy of bed and breakfasts, quaint shops, cute cafes and an old-timey town square complete with gazebo right in the middle of it all. We didn't have overhead power lines (Heaven forbid!) back when "not having power lines" was East Coast (think Westport) cool. We have street lights that look like gas lamps and even a month of "Dickens on Main" in December where horse-drawn carriages run up and down Main Street and fake snow falls from above. All this is kinda neat, and does make for good real estate values, but truly, it's kind of unfriendly. To me, anyway. Now, this could be that I'm obviously a "looky-loo" and not one to pull out the platinum card for old dishes and vintage books. I mean, usually, I'm only dashing in quickly to find a "cute" gift on my way out of town, only to gag audibly at the prices and drive on down the street to Wal-Mart.
So, today, when the girls and I had an hour to kill (and by girls, I meant the three of them--Perfect Daughter, Sweet Girl and Chihuahua), we decided to stroll down Main Street with all the tourists. The dog was going to be a problem, so we discussed a) taking turns standing outside stores while the other two shopped...quicky vetoed with an "are you kidding" look from Sweet Girl who knows which one of us is going to pull out the money for any old toy she must have, and b) asking nicely if we could take her in, as long as we held her in our arms. She weighs all of seven pounds, by the way, but that was feeling much like a brick by the end of the day. She has this way of collapsing into her human's arms like "sigh, finally" which is both cute and excruciating at the same time.
So, we started out. First store? A book store. We peeked in. "Can we carry our dog in with us?" we asked trepidatiously. We were waved in enthusiastically. I had an actual long conversation with the proprietor. We talked dogs and books and made fast friends (didn't buy anything, but at least I gasped quietly at the prices). We then hit "Antique Row". The first store we came to was one I have always loved, but have never felt exactly welcome in. We asked our question and this time the answer was, "Only if I get to pet her first"....true gushing over the Chihuahua, children rushing up, people asking her name and age. At this point, Perfect Daughter was holding her, looking not unlike Paris Hilton, with her Starbucks cup, her Chihuahua, and her dark sunglasses. When I told her that, she thrust the dog at me in horror. I, of course, do NOT resemble Paris Hilton in anyway, unless we are talking the actual hotel, which I believe is rather squat as are all buildings in Paris. Anyway....
This continued all day. We got the best service, made fast friends, were offered treats for Sweet Girl AND the Chihuahua and now we know that we have unlocked the secret to shopping in our town. Take the dog.
Oh, but not to afore-mentioned Wal-Mart. My experience with her there goes like this: I had a flat tire a couple of years ago. Sweet Girl and the Chi were with me. We HAD to go into the store to use the restroom while the tire was being repaired. I walked through the store holding the darling dog (who was a 4 pound pup at the time, looking much like a stuffed toy, or rodent) in one hand, and dragging Sweet Girl briskly behind me. No one said anything bad, but no one said anything at all. Wal-Mart employees looked at me as I walked past, but kept on stocking (or not helping people, which is actually what they do best since ol' Sam passed away). I took Sweet Girl (and pup) into the restroom. Our hands were not quite dry as we came out to THREE MEN IN SUITS standing just outside the door. I wasn't sure if they were the FBI, or Wal-Mart management, but yeah, they did have the requisite blue vest on. "Ma'am," they said in their best Joe Friday imitation. "Dogs are NOT allowed in Wal-Mart". Good grief. I had been followed, stalked, reported--all the way to the little girl's room. I guess I'll take the dog next time I actually need to find an employee because nothing before or since has worked that well.
Meanwhile, as I told DH...Main Street, which has signs that actually say, "Strollers not permitted" or "Children must be watched by parents" or "You break it, you buy it", has a secret love for small dogs. Who knew?
I have lived in this little town for almost 17 years. In all that time, this is the friendly quotient on Main Street: ZERO. Yes, I live outside of San Antonio, the most wonderful and most friendly city in Texas. Yes, I love my neighbors and friends in my little town. But, MAIN STREET is another story. The powers-that-be have turned our hometown into a picture postcard spot worthy of bed and breakfasts, quaint shops, cute cafes and an old-timey town square complete with gazebo right in the middle of it all. We didn't have overhead power lines (Heaven forbid!) back when "not having power lines" was East Coast (think Westport) cool. We have street lights that look like gas lamps and even a month of "Dickens on Main" in December where horse-drawn carriages run up and down Main Street and fake snow falls from above. All this is kinda neat, and does make for good real estate values, but truly, it's kind of unfriendly. To me, anyway. Now, this could be that I'm obviously a "looky-loo" and not one to pull out the platinum card for old dishes and vintage books. I mean, usually, I'm only dashing in quickly to find a "cute" gift on my way out of town, only to gag audibly at the prices and drive on down the street to Wal-Mart.
So, today, when the girls and I had an hour to kill (and by girls, I meant the three of them--Perfect Daughter, Sweet Girl and Chihuahua), we decided to stroll down Main Street with all the tourists. The dog was going to be a problem, so we discussed a) taking turns standing outside stores while the other two shopped...quicky vetoed with an "are you kidding" look from Sweet Girl who knows which one of us is going to pull out the money for any old toy she must have, and b) asking nicely if we could take her in, as long as we held her in our arms. She weighs all of seven pounds, by the way, but that was feeling much like a brick by the end of the day. She has this way of collapsing into her human's arms like "sigh, finally" which is both cute and excruciating at the same time.
So, we started out. First store? A book store. We peeked in. "Can we carry our dog in with us?" we asked trepidatiously. We were waved in enthusiastically. I had an actual long conversation with the proprietor. We talked dogs and books and made fast friends (didn't buy anything, but at least I gasped quietly at the prices). We then hit "Antique Row". The first store we came to was one I have always loved, but have never felt exactly welcome in. We asked our question and this time the answer was, "Only if I get to pet her first"....true gushing over the Chihuahua, children rushing up, people asking her name and age. At this point, Perfect Daughter was holding her, looking not unlike Paris Hilton, with her Starbucks cup, her Chihuahua, and her dark sunglasses. When I told her that, she thrust the dog at me in horror. I, of course, do NOT resemble Paris Hilton in anyway, unless we are talking the actual hotel, which I believe is rather squat as are all buildings in Paris. Anyway....
This continued all day. We got the best service, made fast friends, were offered treats for Sweet Girl AND the Chihuahua and now we know that we have unlocked the secret to shopping in our town. Take the dog.
Oh, but not to afore-mentioned Wal-Mart. My experience with her there goes like this: I had a flat tire a couple of years ago. Sweet Girl and the Chi were with me. We HAD to go into the store to use the restroom while the tire was being repaired. I walked through the store holding the darling dog (who was a 4 pound pup at the time, looking much like a stuffed toy, or rodent) in one hand, and dragging Sweet Girl briskly behind me. No one said anything bad, but no one said anything at all. Wal-Mart employees looked at me as I walked past, but kept on stocking (or not helping people, which is actually what they do best since ol' Sam passed away). I took Sweet Girl (and pup) into the restroom. Our hands were not quite dry as we came out to THREE MEN IN SUITS standing just outside the door. I wasn't sure if they were the FBI, or Wal-Mart management, but yeah, they did have the requisite blue vest on. "Ma'am," they said in their best Joe Friday imitation. "Dogs are NOT allowed in Wal-Mart". Good grief. I had been followed, stalked, reported--all the way to the little girl's room. I guess I'll take the dog next time I actually need to find an employee because nothing before or since has worked that well.
Meanwhile, as I told DH...Main Street, which has signs that actually say, "Strollers not permitted" or "Children must be watched by parents" or "You break it, you buy it", has a secret love for small dogs. Who knew?
posted by herewegoagain at
7:57 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home