Knows that I hate animals..there, I've said it. . Especially dogs, but that is a whole 'nother offshoot of hatred. The only way I like an animal is if it is sitting on a plate next to a big baked potato. That's what I'm talkin' about. When I used to "teach" 2 year olds, I had to, of course, read aloud from several thousand cutesy animal-themed stories per week. Frankly, I couldn't have given a rats's ass what the brown bear saw or where the hell he was going. I even said out loud to the cooing toddlers one day : "Sorry - Teacher Trudy doesn't like animals. Let's just drink up our apple juice so we can go play on the swings, shall we ?"
I do this thing where I make my family uncomfortable in public by openly cooing and fussing over pets (esp. tiny purse dogs) - they say that it makes their blood run cold. I'm all - "oh my God - look at that sweet little sweater ! Does he have a matching hat ? What a good good boy !" I love to do this, as it feels evil and wrong and (almost) no one is the wiser. Last week, I saw a Purse Dog in a backpack riding on a scooter, his smelly little disgusting head flapping in the breeze I tried to pretend I was concerned that it didn't have a helmet - and Chief nipped that right in the bud : "Don't even..."
So, yesterday, I go to the Why with Sparky to get all up in my cardio and shit. I tread on the mill, do a few "reps" of my weights, and then settle in for a few mindless miles on the bikes. I pop on the music, turn on the (attached !) fan, and start a' pedalin'. I mock Sparky, as she is watching a Harry Potter movie on her iPod as she pedals. Muggle/nerd alert ! I like this one particular bike, and am loath to ride any other.
Sparky to my right, some woman to my left, and.....WAIT ! What do I see beside me on the goddamned floor ? IT IS A MINIATURE PET CARRIER !!!! Of all the gym joints in all the world, there has to be a fucking mini-pet all up in my grill AT THE GYM ! The human gym ! What are the odds ? I hate my life. I am riveted, and cannot take my saucer-sized eyes off of this unbelievable sight. I look at Sparky, and direct her to the travesty in question : she looks worried. She must have seen a Look on my face or something.
I have so many scenarios busting through my sweaty little head : shall I kick it and sweetly say "oops - sorry - wasn't expecting a pet at the gym in my exercise bubble." Or I could just start fake sneezing and will myself into a non-existent pet dander allergy. I can't even see what kind of a creature it is - it could be a goddamned raptor or a cobra or something. I am so in a state of shock and disbelief. Dialing 911 isn't out of the question - but there is no cell phone use allowed, and I, for one follow all gym rules and regs. Dog toting bitch.
I am overcome with a burning desire to tattle on her, so I adjust my workout thusly. I am concerned that she will leave before me, and then my plans are shot. Suddenly, my workout starts to resemble Miss Gulch feverishly pedaling as she kidnaps Toto In Kansas. I am a pedaling fool - there may even be sparks flying. Sparky knows to ignore me - once she saw that there was a pet, that was it. Dog Bitch has her readout area covered with a towel (and a book - don't get me started on people who read and exercise at the same time - WTF.) I cannot track her mileage or calories or anything. I keep looking death rays at the "pet" - but am trying to be good so I don't tip her off on my tattling plans.
Finally, I can take it no more - 4 miles and I have work to do. My hand to God - the Pet Carrier is actually in my way as I dismount - I so wanted to throw myself on the ground screaming. I apply a little subterfuge : I stop at the FittLinx station to log in my workout, sanitize my hands, and leave the room in search of an official. I spot some babe in (inappropriate) high heels, and ask, stridently : "Do you work here ?" She does, and I ask : "So, are we allowed to have pets in the gym now ?" She instantly hates me, and the feeling is oh, so mutual. I feel the need to get my bitch on. She smarms at me : "Well, we do have a few service dogs..." Me: "Oh, like seeing eye dogs for the blind ?" She asks for a description of The Pet - she seems to recognize it. I say : "well, that's great, but you don't want me tripping over somebody's house pet in the middle of my workout -that'd be on you if I hurt myself." She asks if The Pet is blocking the aisle. Me: "You've seen the amount of space between the bikes, right ? He IS the aisle. Plus, my allergies are acting up now." She really hates me now, so I get her where she lives and reiterate what a shame it would be if a paying gym member in good standing hurt herself on a "service dog."
I then run back to the exercise room, and hide in plan sight on the weight machines. Timmy and Lassie are still biking, the bitches. The high-heeled woman does a pass-by, and then sends a toady to ask the animal-lover to move her fucking dog out of the way. All the way home, I rant at Poor Sparky : I could, then, bring a service alligator if I put a little vest on him ? How about a service manatee ? A service anaconda ? A service killer whale? A school of service piranha? I could put a vest on Sparky and lay her in everyone's way, and there wouldn't be a damn thing anyone could say or do.
A small victory, my tattling - but the phenomenon of the Anything Goes "Service Dogs"is upon us. At the Apple Store last week, I saw a (tiny) dog, and said, out loud : "So, then, it's okay to bring dogs anywhere a person wants now ?! " Wait for it : it was wearing a Service Animal Vest. Which, somehow, makes it okay. I just was spitting nails.
I mean , maybe the Dog Bitch is intractably mentally ill and she a can only go to the gym if she stuffs a dog in a box and brings it with her. Hell, I had to force myself to go work out, and I didn't need a boxed animal. I long for the old days where a "service animal" was a fucking-well German Shepard seeing eye dog being walked by someone in dark dark glasses and a big ass harness on it.
Seriously.
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