Dogs are allowed in our local Home Depot, and not only in those humiliating assistance vests (the canine fashion equivalent of fanny packs).
Still, my mother often tries to leave me home on her frequent trips to this store, so usually I have to appeal to her higher self. For example, when she got into her car to return a faulty shower rod this morning, I jumped in to the front seat, sporting my well-practiced expression of abject misery bordering on grief. She took one look at me, and minutes later, off we went!
The store was jam packed with dogs today. Loathe as I am to say it, the pit bull is the only breed that truly owns the aisles of HD. The rest of us are either pushed along in their store carts, excited to be there at all, or we stroll mindlessly beside our distracted families as they search for the perfect picture hook. We don’t hold a candle to the champion swagger of the pit bull.
In fact, there was a pit bull there today, sauntering down the crowded Rope and Chain aisle like a thoroughbred who had just won the Kentucky Derby. Gorgeous - and don’t think he didn’t know it. I wanted to stay and watch him from my high up perch in the carriage, but Mother moved us along quickly, mumbling something about “too many people reading 'Fifty Shades of Gray'.” She's often incoherent.
All in all, it was a good day with Mother at HD. Since we left my insufferable brother Dash at home, I had Mother all to myself for a few hours. I’m sure she enjoyed our time alone together as much I did. Even though she's too nice to say it, I know that we both prefer it this way.
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