It's Where the Pets Go....

I rarely go to Petco.

It's kind of expensive and all the seasonal costumes and accessories for dogs tend to make me nervous (as in, I feel I should stock up on them despite not owning a dog).

Thought I was joking?

Based on what I saw, your dog will be trick or treating either as a pirate or a witch this Halloween.

I was there for a new litter box. Since it was for Charlie's cat Tito and no expense is too great for my first grand cat, I was there to check out the 2011 models but the cat section is n the back and there's a lot to see on your way there.

I don't like snakes but when I see them coiled up in small tanks under bright lights wearing resigned expressions on their faces, I get very depressed. And the countless cages with idiots hamsters frantically racing on their wheels also upset me because they so undeniably exemplify the futility of life.

As I passed the fish tanks, though I valiantly tried to suppress the memory, I had little choice but to relive buying my mother, in her older age, a small but fully equipped tank for her birthday.

It had a tiny, plastic castle, pretty blue gravel and a colorful pirate's chest which said "treasure" on it so the fish would know it wasn't for recyclables or anything other than their gold doubloons.

And, yes, it also had some fish.

As per the instructions of the odd, but very nice, Fish Boy, I taught my mother exactly how much and how often to feed them lest they "explode" (Fish Boy's word, not mine) from overfeeding but she absolutely did not believe me.

I learned that you cannot convince a woman who strongly connected food with love that the fish could be satisfied with a scant daily pinch of feathery flakes and they were dead in a week.

 

Yum.

As I approached the cat aisles, I passed an assortment of brushes, combs and grooming products for canines that would have made Vidal Sassoon need a Xanax, plus a salad bar set-up with dog treats that looked so delicious that I realized my mouth was watering.

I also encountered a real, live dog.

I always forget that pets are allowed in Petco. All alone, but focused and well-behaved, he appeared to be shopping.

In fact, I saw three dogs in total and, for some reason, became very disoriented. Just as I was getting my bearings, I met an actual ferret wearing a little vest.

In the arms of his owner, he appeared very relaxed as she scanned a large array of ferret supplies. The ferret and I made brief eye contact.

Finally, I found myself amidst the litter boxes.

There were electric, self-cleaning boxes for hundred of dollars, ones in the shape of igloos, ones with portals with swinging doors, ones with deodorizing inserts and ones so large that I could have comfortably used them, myself.

Hey, I wanted the igloo!

I chose a no-frills litter box for Tito and headed for the cashier, standing in line on the only open check-out in a store as a large as a football field...behind the woman and the ferret.

On the counter was the item she'd chosen. It was called "Ferret Sheen." The ferret looked very happy with the purchase.

It was then that I fully realized that I had entered a different world. I also think I developed a case of kennel cough while I was in there.

I wonder if I should go to the vet.

How it should be.