Y’all, I do not understand humans.
The cell phone store convinces them they needed newer phones…
and then convinces them I wasn’t allowed inside.
What the wagging tail is that about?
So here’s what happened.
A few days ago, we went to the cell phone store. Me, Mama, and my great niece.
Well.
They went.
I was informed — very rudely, I might add — that I was “not allowed inside this location.”
Interesting.
Because last time I went to the cell phone store, everyone acted like I was a celebrity.
There were pets and scratches and at least three people telling me I was “a Very Good Girl,” which, frankly, should have earned me store membership privileges for life.
But suddenly:
“No dogs allowed.”
Excuse me?
I have been to Home Depot.
Lowe’s.
TJ Max – oh I love TJ Max.
Wally World.
The bank.
And once, against my better judgment, Hobby Lobby.
But apparently the cell phone people have other standards now.
So I waited in the car.
Now before anyone gets dramatic:
Mama leaves the air running.
Sometimes the windows are cracked too so I can supervise the parking lot and monitor important neighborhood smells.
And let me tell you something.
Humans are WEIRD around dogs in cars.
Every single person walking by looked at me like I was either:
- deeply oppressed,
- preparing a jailbreak,
or - about to give an interview about unsafe working conditions.
Ma’am.
I am lying on a cooled leather seat covered in soft cozy blankets
Grooving to smooth jazz
with climate control and
unrestricted access to french fry smells,
Honey, I am fine.
Meanwhile, inside the store, the Younger Humans were apparently looking at phones.
Again.
Apparently the one they already had — the glowing rectangle they’ve been emotionally attached to for eleven straight months — is suddenly unacceptable because this rectangle has “better cameras” and “more storage.”
Every year humans convince themselves the newest phone will somehow change their lives.
And every year they still walk into poles while texting.
I simply do not understand this generation’s emotional attachment to rectangles.
They stare at them constantly.
They carry them everywhere.
They panic if they lose one for eleven seconds.
And according to Mama, they use them to “leave messages for friends.”
Which seems unnecessarily complicated.
Why type paragraphs into glowing rectangles when you could just eave pee mail like civilized creatures?
And do not even get me started on talking into the thing.
Every time Daddy calls Mama, he says:
“Put Sassy on the phone.”
Dude.
I do not understand the expectations here.
I hear him doing the sweet talk:
“Hiiiiii Sassy girl…”
“Whatcha doin’?”
“Are you being good?”
Meanwhile I am sitting there staring at the phone like:
…what exactly is my role in this conversation?
Am I supposed to discuss neighborhood squirrels?
Give updates on my snack schedule?
Review the quality of the blankets in the back seat?
Honestly, the entire system feels very disorganized.
Finally,
and this is the last thing I’m going to say about these phones,
why is everyone always looking down now?
Nobody is paying attention anymore.
A squirrel could launch an entire criminal enterprise in the parking lot, and these people would miss it because they’re busy poking glowing rectangles with their thumbs.
Meanwhile, from my perfectly climate-controlled observation post, I noticed:
three spilled drinks,
a suspicious pigeon,
a toddler covered in cracker residue,
two unattended shopping carts,
and a lady carrying Chick-fil-A.
I am not saying I was the only responsible adult in that parking lot.
But honestly, at this point, I feel like I carried the entire surveillance operation by myself.
🐾 Sassy
P.S. Today we went to TJ Maxx and Hobby Lobby. They had no concerns about my presence whatsoever.
Funny how that works. 🐾
Third Act With Pattie 