Dear Mr. (or perhaps, Ms.) President of PetSmart PetsHotel,
I know you may be surprised to hear from me again so soon again after our last correspondence, but I could not let another day pass without apologizing for the scene my favorite doggie daughter made in your store yesterday. I would have called you on the Bone Booth to offer my apologies in person had I not been so ashamed.
Now before I go any further, Mr. President, I have a question for you: Do you actually take your hotel guests outside to. . .well, you know to. . . do their "business" while their owners are away? Especially the "Big Business" part???
And, assuming the answer to the first questions is Yes, I also have another question for you: Why is it such a long walk from your hotel lobby to the great outdoors?
The reason I'm asking is that a most unusual thing happened as I was retrieving Kasey after my big weekend in Cleveland for my nephew's wedding. Instead of being all tail-wagging happy to see me, she seemed to be fixated on sniffing the floor of the hotel. And before I knew it, a turd of unknown origins had appeared on the lobby floor.
Oh my stars! I declared, Is there another dog around here?
No, only your dog . . . the pet concierege politely replied as she went to grab my sister's dog, who I was also bringing home.
And suddenly there was another.
Turd, that was, not dog.
And that was the moment my little dim-witted brain kicked into high gear. . .
Now Kasey has been known to suffer from the ravages of safe toilet syndrome at times when we take her with us to the shore, but never did I dream that her vacation constipation would rear its ugly head so close to home. And the Pawgress Report the concierge gave when I checked her out stated that - along with being a Party Animal - she had Taken Care of Business while she was a guest in your establishment.
But it soon became painfully clear, Mr. President, that my little doggie daughter had not taken care of nearly enough business while she was on vacation.
Because once I left the lobby of your hotel I found myself pulled forward like a musher through the Alaskan tundra while juggling two newly-sprung dogs and their belongings on a race out of the ginormous PetSmart store. And my unique perspective from the behinds-area allowed me to see, Mr. President, that she and I were about to lose the race for the door.
And we did.
I am ashamed to say that this musher lost the I-Did-a-Poop.
Yes there, in the center aisle of your PetSmart store, my dog took care of an additional full quarter's worth of business on the spot.
At which point I found myself faced with a terrible dilemna.
I had seen a display of doggie bags upon leaving the PetsHotel (indeed, that was how the concierge had taken care of the previous two - at this point we'll just call them - mole hills of doggie poo) but how was I to leave a mountain of dog poo sitting unprotected in the center aisle of a superstore on a busy Monday morning to go and retrieve a clean-up bag, with two dogs and a suitcase full of their toys, food, and belongings no less? But since it was painfully clear that the mountain was not going to move to the bag, I needed to quickly devise a plan to bring the bag to the mountain.
Should I flag down the nearest customer and ask her to watch my poo while I dash to the bag display? Do I enlist the help of the employee cleaning out the gerbil cages and tell him I have a more-urgent task for him? Do I cup my hands, make a pretend megaphone and call out, Clean up in aisle four! and make a run for it????
Now A Mom on Spin has been accused by her daughters of not being many things, Mr. President, but no one has ever said that I am not resourceful. . .
And so it was that I left the suitcase of belongings on the floor of the store right in front of the poo to mark its place. . . kind of like a Caution, wet floor sign. . .and ran quickly to get a bag - tripping over the paw of my sister's poo-ly behaved dog in the process (and don't you think I felt bad about that, knowing all-too-well what it's like to have piggies who wished they had stayed home. . . ) and returned to the scene of the crime just in time to clean up the evidence.
Only to discover that Kasey's hind-quarterly output had been more than one mere bag could comfortably contain.
At which point I - along with two newly-sprung dogs, a poo-stained suitcase full of toys, food, and belongings, and a five-pound bag of doggie poo - quickly mushed out of the store . . . leaving only the faint smeary traces of evidence that we had ever been there.
And when we got home, Mr. President?
Well, after the dog had relieved herself two additional times. . . I happened to read the following under the Happy Homecoming section on the back cover of Kasey's aforementioned Pawgress Report:
After you leave the PetSmart PetHotel and before getting into your car, allow your dog the opportunity to relieve himself. Even if he just went in the PetSmart PetsHotel before you picked him up, the excitement of seeing his Pet Parent will probably prompt him to go again.
and again. . .
and again. . .
But I ask you, Mr. President. . . isn't it nice to be loved?