Martin Needed a Bath
Our church has a pet-blessing service now and again. It’s coming up, so I thought I might take Martin, whom we affectionately call “StinkDog!” to a charity dog-wash at the groomer’s we’ve used for his entire life.
When I got there, I realized the whole operation had nothing to do with groomer we’ve done business with, aside from offering up parking and other resources for the folks doing the washing. They wanted $10 per dog and I was fine with that.
Except I didn’t actually have $10. How messed up is that? I have had the same $5 bill in my wallet since I was little. I don’t use cash much, any more. I had plastic, but they weren’t set up for that.
Okay, I’ll go to my neighborhood grocery store. I’ve bought stuff in there and the little machine asked me if I wanted cash back. In fact, I think that’s how I got the fiver I’m carrying, now. So I drove most of the way back home, picked up a couple of 1¼ liter Diet Coke bottles and headed for the front of the store.
When I got there I found a new sign limiting plastic purchases to $5 or more. Okay, so I picked up a couple of bags of m&m’s, too. The kid rang me up and I swiped my card and signed my name and… I was done. Hey! Wait a minute! Isn’t it supposed to ask me if I wanted any cash back? “Oh, I’m sorry. That’s only with debit cards. With credit cards it’s not offered.” I’d left the house with only a credit card.
Since I was so close, I just hung my head in shame and drove back home. Martin was okay with it. He’d gotten to sniff a few butts and he loves nothing so much as riding with Daddy as we tour the city. So he was probably happier than if he’d actually had a stranger wet him down and shine him up.
And this weekend, he and I will be sitting the back, hoping not to offend anyone. We tried.
