Stiffed!
Few things -- errant squirrels aside -- get my dogs riled the way a trip to the bank does. They become positively giddy with excitement. Can't get in the vehicle fast enough. All for the promise of a Milkbone treat or two that usually arrives at the vehicle in some mysterious tube.
As soon as I pull up to the drive-thru and reach for the canister, there's at least one wet nose peering over my shoulder. I deposit my transaction materials into the canister and return it to the same location from which I grabbed it.
Let the salivating begin.
My dogs do Pavlov proud. They would be world-class in his eyes.
The wait is on.
Oh, the wait. They can't sit still. Maybe if I jump in the front seat the teller will see me, they think. Maybe if I press my nose up against the window she'll see me. Maybe if I whine enough in anticipation she'll notice me. Maybe....
All of that was to no avail today. No treats today. They were stiffed.
I opened the canister upon its return to me, only to glimpse it's minimal contents. One single, measly deposit receipt.
Both dogs inserted their noses -- one at a time -- to verify as much.
The restless anticipation that had previously filled the back of my vehicle suddenly dissipated.
Poof!
The vehicle was heavy with disappointment as we drove home. I can only imagine what might be running through my dogs' minds, if indeed they thought as well as I wish they would.
I'm not sure why they didn't get their normal Milkbone rewards. Cutting costs at the bank? My deposit wasn't big enough? Teller was too busy? Teller wasn't a dog lover? Teller is some sort of Milkbone Nazi? Teller didn't see the dogs?
Couldn't be that she didn't see the dogs. How could you miss their considerable craniums -- crania, if you're a true stickler for diction -- poking out the window?
Just another lesson in life for my dogs. This one is about disappointment. For me, just as it is every time I take them to the bank, it's a reminder of how I might derive some sort of excitement out of what, on the surface, is among the most mundane of life's tasks. Just like my dogs do -- minus the salivating, of course.
As soon as I pull up to the drive-thru and reach for the canister, there's at least one wet nose peering over my shoulder. I deposit my transaction materials into the canister and return it to the same location from which I grabbed it.
Let the salivating begin.
My dogs do Pavlov proud. They would be world-class in his eyes.
The wait is on.
Oh, the wait. They can't sit still. Maybe if I jump in the front seat the teller will see me, they think. Maybe if I press my nose up against the window she'll see me. Maybe if I whine enough in anticipation she'll notice me. Maybe....
All of that was to no avail today. No treats today. They were stiffed.
I opened the canister upon its return to me, only to glimpse it's minimal contents. One single, measly deposit receipt.
Both dogs inserted their noses -- one at a time -- to verify as much.
The restless anticipation that had previously filled the back of my vehicle suddenly dissipated.
Poof!
The vehicle was heavy with disappointment as we drove home. I can only imagine what might be running through my dogs' minds, if indeed they thought as well as I wish they would.
I'm not sure why they didn't get their normal Milkbone rewards. Cutting costs at the bank? My deposit wasn't big enough? Teller was too busy? Teller wasn't a dog lover? Teller is some sort of Milkbone Nazi? Teller didn't see the dogs?
Couldn't be that she didn't see the dogs. How could you miss their considerable craniums -- crania, if you're a true stickler for diction -- poking out the window?
Just another lesson in life for my dogs. This one is about disappointment. For me, just as it is every time I take them to the bank, it's a reminder of how I might derive some sort of excitement out of what, on the surface, is among the most mundane of life's tasks. Just like my dogs do -- minus the salivating, of course.
posted by RTG at 1:10 PM
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