Caleb's getting bigger, isn't he? I think I am in love with his topline though, ha. He's turning into a nice dog too; but wow, he's a dominant little red-head. The other dogs have been really correcting him more than they ever corrected Simon. Me too, for that matter. There have been a few days that I realize I've been like, "Caleb, uh uh!" and Riley has rolled him for the umpteenth time and the two of us look at each other like we're about to pull our hair out. Honestly, though, he really is coming along, and he's been so good about sleeping in and behaving himself at night. He graduated to a bigger crate last night, and not a peep out of him. Aw. Good boy. (I like him, and well, he's really become my dog. He's a handful, but when you finally get it through his head about something, he's really good at remembering and putting it to other situations very quickly.)
Missed a Caturday. But that's okay, I'll just tell you that I had a cat related day yesterday that blew my mind. I own a small pet store, as some of you know. Well, I have two shop cats. Both are lovely, wonderful cats, both rescues. They pretty much have the run of the shop. We have a package of salmon treats under the counter that Baron likes beyond all like. He gets a few treats when we come in and that's it, but he will wait until it's busy and then pester you for more. After the fourth time I set him on the floor yesterday (he'd knocked off the mouse and a bunch of paperwork I was working on when I was with customers) I finally went for the spray bottle. Usually all you have to do is show it to him, and he gets the point and goes somewhere else and realizes you're serious about not letting him get his way.
So, I'm standing there picking up the squirt bottle, and he looks at me. I'm like, "Get off, I will use this, go on, I mean it."
Right then, this customer walks in and yells at me, "Don't DO THAT!"
I'm so taken aback that I say, "Uh, you bet I'm using it if he doesn't get down. He knows he's not supposed to be up here right now."
Baron gives me the "make me," face, I squirt the counter next to him, he realizes I'm serious and hops down and trots away. Mind you, trots. The lady has a complete fit, and threatens me out of earshot (in front of one of my other employees) to call the ASPCA on me. For animal abuse. Dead serious, cannot make this up.
On the way out she hands me the parting shot (after buying things) of "I just can't stay in here!" and stomps out.
... well, that's a new one on me. I guess I should have just picked up a taser or hit him with a two by four across his head, right?
I'm not sure if I should just laugh or shake my head but it really bothered me. I'm the last person I can think of about cat animal abuse. Crud, Baron didn't even think it was that serious of a threat - he sauntered off and flopped in a sunbeam and realized I did mean it about staying out of the paperwork. I've had him since I rescued him out of a Safeway box, twelve years ago. I think he's about the last cat I'd ever say was abused. You wonder if this is the sort of person that calls animal protection because a cat is outside in a yard eating grass. (He must be starving!)
Wow, man, sometimes I think this world's gone a bit off the deep end. I'm all for a good animal cause, but I swear, some people really need to get their heads screwed on a bit better.
