Spa Day

It’s safe to say that the pandemic is over. Petsmart no longer offers curbside pickup for pups. I could have really used that this week when the temperatures blew off the top of our thermometers. 121 degrees isn’t safe for man or beast. Even Petsmart thought so.

“Hi, I’m calling to set up curbside pickup – the service you offered in my confirmation email? How does that work?”

“Oh, we don’t offer that anymore. No, it’s too hot outside. It’ll hurt the feet of the dogs to walk them into our store.”

Silence. Click.

I.Am.So.Slow. It wasn’t until I saw the screen on my phone go dead that logic spoke up. So I drove Brody to his afternoon spa day appointment, walked him across the melting asphalt—ran him, in truth—and leapt into the air-conditioned building. When we reached the grooming salon, a friendly woman greeted us.

“This is Brody,” I said. She smiled at us and waited. “So, you don’t offer curbside pickup anymore?” I asked, hoping a lazy teenager had given me misinformation. It wasn’t just that I was being lazy, too, even though I’ll admit that was part of it. The other part was the instinct to survive. Petsmart is the size of Costco and the salon is located on the far east side, almost to the New Mexico border. The last time I ventured into the building, I tripped over my 70-pound horse and fell face first at the feet of twelve strangers in the checkout line. I’ve spent the last three months coming up with a plan to insure that never happens again.

“No, we don’t do curbside anymore. It’s too hot outside. It’s not good for the animals,” the groomer explained.

I stared at her cherubic face. Even she missed the logic. I decided to point it out.

“You realize that meant I had to walk him across the hot asphalt, in the heat, to bring him inside. He still had to cross the Valley of Lava to get here.”

“It’s store policy,” she smiled.

“It doesn’t make any sense,” I pointed out.

“No, it doesn’t,” she agreed.

Well, at least she was honest. But I was determined not to give an encore of the slapstick performance I’d given the last time I walked Brody out of the store. Since customer service had gone back to pre-pandemic normal, I knew I’d have to find help somewhere else. I needed a dog walker who was lighter on her feet than me.

My thirteen-year-old granddaughter.

“Sure,” Allie said when I asked her to come with me to pick up my freshly pedicured pup. I found out I could pay the bill online, so all we needed to do was put Brody’s collar and lead back on so Allie could dance him down the aisles to the front door. Which is what it looks like when a giant white dog has to smell every nook and cranny along the way. But Allie is strong and persuasive and soon we reached the front door. The safety zone. The edge of freedom.

Right across from the cash registers where thousands of other dogs have come and gone in broad daylight.

What’s a dog to do? He had to go, too. And he did.

Lifting one hind leg, he peed all over the automatic door’s frame, baptizing both inside and outside the walkway with half a gallon of Brody’s Special Reserve.

I assumed this is the sort of thing that happens all the time, even noticing evidence of a more disgusting donation left by another dog a few feet away. I could have walked out. We were practically on the other side of anonymity. But I’m a good citizen and didn’t want anyone to slip and fall in the doorway and sue Petsmart for not keeping their floors clean. I could have sworn I’ve seen store employees with less tenure mopping up accidents like this one. It’s their job.

I left Brody in Allie’s care and headed to the cashier to point out the mess so they could page someone to clean it up. I was sure they’d be grateful for my thoughtfulness while I braced myself for re-entry into the furnace outside.

The cashier pointed to something behind me. “There are paper towels over there and disinfectant spray,” she said before I could even tell her what happened. Everyone in the checkout line had seen Brody’s behavior and now watched in pity as I knelt on the floor and cleaned up his pee. It looks like Petsmart has discontinued their outside pickup as well as their inside pickup. There was a certain déjà vu feeling that came over me as I re-connected with the same floor I’d come face to face with three months earlier.

I am tired of being humbled by a dog inside Petsmart.

I don’t know if I’m going to take Brody to back anymore to get his nails clipped and his fur washed. I heard there are mobile groomers who come right to your door no matter what the temperature is outside and thank you for the privilege of cleaning him up no matter how inappropriate he behaves in public. I also heard they charge a lot of money to drive their petmobiles onto your driveway so you don’t have to walk your dog across melting asphalt or fall on your face when it’s time to pay them or make you clean up dog pee.

The pandemic may be over but free enterprise is still alive and well. And worth every single penny.