So it looks like the Hand of Fate is moving.
It got set in motion when my old barber bugged out. Left the employ of the barbershop (which is called, insouciantly, "The Barbershop") altogether. I hadn't even gotten used to her yet; if I could, I'd have the same barber for life—I'm very barber-loyal—but recently I've been a nomad, as one after another shifts onwards in life. Nothing's permanent.
Conversation is important during a haircut, because it's awkward to read a magazine and it lasts just long enough that my mind can get bored. Of all my mundane fears, having nothing to think about is the most pervasive. I had auditioned a couple of replacement barbers. One was a great conversationalist but gave me a haircut that looked vaguely Millennial; another gave me a fine haircut but evidently considered communication to be outside her job requirements. Finally I found Emily. At first, I thought conversation might be a problem because Emily is beautiful, a curvy blonde with pretty features. Beautiful women sometimes erect a defense of standoffishness, by necessity, because they don't want to inadvertently encourage interest on the part of random stray men {*cough*}.
But I needn't have worried—Emily turned out to be a pet lover, which not only speaks well of her character but, as a topic of conversation, is plenty good enough for a hundred haircuts. Once we landed on the topic, we had an animated and increasingly friendly discussion about our beloved dogs.
During the course of which she recommended a dog food she had just discovered called Merrick.
I liked what I read about it. I do indulge in the best for my dog, I admit. My buddy Lulu was rescued from a breeder of fighting dogs. She was probably bred to be a "bait dog," meaning dogs that are sacrificed to the prizefighters as practice and to whet the latter's bloodlust. The damage inflicted on bait dogs is not pretty. Knowing Lulu, she would have been infinitely game—despite never having a chance, every encounter rigged—a thought that hurts me. So my guiding principle with her has been that she needs to live a good life to make up for the likely fate of her littermates. I can't help her brothers and sisters; but at least Lulu will be spoiled and loved and understood and treated with respect and care, and live a good life on their behalf. So, yeah, when it comes to food she gets the good stuff. Partly because I want her to eat well and be healthy. And partly it's symbolic.
Two words that make Lulu all excited are "pet store." I imagine it must be a cornucopia of luscious smells for her. I happened to remember the name "Merrick"—I don't always remember names—on our next visit to the pet store. I asked, and they had it. So we tried it.
Lulu loved it. And it didn't trigger her allergies, which is her ongoing health issue—if anything, it's made her scratching and self-biting behaviors subside.
It takes a number of days to properly switch a dog's diet, blending the new food into the old in increasing amounts to avoid any digestive issues or allergic reactions. Once we'd switched, I didn't want to go back.
So then I was left with the better part of two bags of the old food.
On our next trip to the pet store (this time to pay the squeaky toy tax, an ongoing household expense), I encountered an employee of the local HAWS (Humane Animal Welfare Society) shelter, who was apparently there as a public service. I remembered our extra food and asked if I could donate it to the shelter.
Next came a trip to the shelter to drop off the food, and that's when I finally realized that Fate was in play. I successfully offloaded the surplus food.
And then I figured I'd have a look in the dog kennels.
As long as I was there.
Uh-oh...
[TO BE CONTINUED]
Mike
"Open Mike" is the editorial page of TOP, occasionally off-topic. It appears only but not always on Sundays.
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Featured Comments from:
Ailsa: "I like where this post is going...."
Jim Hart: "After some searching I found the perfect barber. When I sat in the chair for the first time he asked 'How do you want your hair cut?' I replied, 'quickly and silently.' And so it has remained...."
Patrick Perez: "Mike, part two had better include photos.
"On a side note, my brother related a comic from the Funny Times to me yesterday. A cat is speaking to a dog. 'Wait, you're saying my intern is your best friend?'"
Jamie Pillers: "Don't give us that 'Uh-oh' thing!! WHAT HAPPENED?? How long am I going to have to wait to read the next installment of this saga? D**n...I hate waiting for the ends of stories like this!"
Mike replies: I have to wait for it to happen before I can write about what happened. More soon, promise.