I’m Getting Dumber
Updated: Nov 26, 2020
Clark tired of having his teeth brushed long ago. This became apparent when he no longer even reluctantly appeared before me when I said “Time to brush your teeth!” This will be fun, my tone told him. You just think you don’t like it. But in time, it’ll be like nothing. Now, it literally is like nothing because I’m not doing it. So I went to Centinela Feed and bought him a 96-pack of Greenies–the little green toothbrush treats that supposedly decimate plaque and tartar.
I gave him one Wednesday afternoon and he immediately absconded with it. As soon as he had it clasped between his tiny front teeth, out the doggy door he flew and the Greenie was buried within 30 seconds. That was good news and bad, as he only does that with things he considers treasure. Wednesday night I gave him another one and decided to break it in half. He doesn’t get that two half-treasures make a whole, and usually won’t bury things when I force them to depreciate by 50% right in front of his eyes.
As I tried to snap it in half, I realized it was rubbery. Wait, this isn’t right. The moisture in the house must be so high it ruined this bag already! So I, in my infinite wisdom, got out the ol’ dehydrator and dumped about 20 Greenies onto the rack. Many, many hours later, the damn things were still rubbery, so I decided to take them back to Centinela Feed today.
“Hello, I was wondering if I could return or exchange these,” I told a crew of three employees standing at the register. “They’re rubbery.”
“Are they supposed to be crunchy?” one of them asked, floating the question in the air between me and the other employees. None of us knew, so my response of “I think so” sealed the deal. The employee got another box from the shelf, opened it, and wouldn’t you know it? Rubbery.
“I’m so sorry,” I told her. “I can take my old ones back.”
“Don’t worry about it,” she said. “You can have the new box.”
That was really dumb thing number two.
Really dumb thing number one? Last week I got a replacement docking station for Clark’s Tagg Tracker–the GPS bling he now wears on his collar after escaping the house a couple months ago and returning bloodied up. The old docking station had a light that turned blue when plugged in. But when I plugged in the new one, I couldn’t get that damn light to come on. So I waited a couple of days, just in case the problem would resolve itself, but no luck. So I called the Tagg customer service line and, after waiting on hold for 11 minutes, had an opportunity to speak with a representative. She was awfully pleasant despite her incessant coughing and sneezing.
“Do you have that flu everyone’s getting?” I asked her. Inappropriate perhaps, but I suspect prolonged exposure to musac had somehow drained my social graces.
“No, it’s just allergies,” she told me. We talked about the problem I was having with the docking station, and as we talked, I checked the power cord just to ensure it was securely plugged in. It was. Then I flipped over the docking station in case she needed the number from the bottom. And… saw the on-off switch. Shockingly, when I moved the button into the “on” position, the blue light suddenly appeared.
“I’m so sorry,” I told her.
“Don’t worry about it,” she said, laughing. “You just made my day. I needed that–I really did!”
Glad to be of service. I wonder who I’ll help next….