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LIFE WITH DOGS
A Trip to the Emergency Vet With Ms. Hershey Potter
Yes, that’s what they call my dog, even in writing.
The are few things sadder than a pet store.
When I walk into PetSmart, the first thing I see on my left is a wall of Betta fish, each a burst of color languishing in their individual cups. They don’t move, they don’t play. They just float in space and wait.
The next display is the lizards. There’s not a lot to see here because most of the reptiles hide in their artificial rocks and caves, dreaming of a time they ruled the earth. The only exception was a tiny bearded dragon who watched every customer pass with a belligerent smirk on its face.
The cats are on the back wall and I don’t visit the cats. That’s how you end up with a cat, by “just going to look at the cats.”
The City of New York has now thankfully banned the sale of dogs in pet stores and I hope this becomes more widespread. Maybe this will slow down the puppy mills.
After the lizards comes the birds. I don’t know much about birds. They’re pretty, but I feel bad for them. I wouldn’t want to live in a cage if I was born to soar through the air, or at…
