Poodle Yoy: Pet Unsmart

I have a high maintenance dog.  She is an old, partially-blind, poodle.  She eats poo diapers like they are Willy's Burritos.  And she needs to get her hair done about every six weeks.

So every six weeks I take her over to Petsmart for some pampering.

The drop off is cake.  I take her on Wednesday mornings, right after the Yoys depart for school.   I run in.  I sign some stuff.  I run out.

The pick up is the polar opposite.

The dog isn't ever ready until after I've picked up Big and Little E from school.  I have to take the whole circus to the store.

It's not like we are going to Target.  We are going to a place filled with animals. Sometimes there are big dogs shopping with their owners.

There are toys and treats at dog and Yoy level.  I'm always on guard for Yoy-lifting.

Before we can even pick up the dog, we have to do the tour of doggie daycare, the fish, the rats (for reals?), and the birds.

Simultaneously, I'm praying we don't encounter a hungry pit bull.

Finally, we pick up Poodle Yoy.  She is so happy to get out of doggy hell.  We pay our bill and make our way to the parking lot.

Today was special.  It was raining.  I've got both boys, not in strollers, and the dog.

Big E is holding part of the leash.  I'm holding the handle and Little E's hand. We are quite the sh*t show.

Please let us just make it across the parking lot.  I'll get over the fact that the dog's $60 hairdo is being flattened by the rain.

In all the excitement of being free of that place, Poodle Yoy slips out of her collar and prances across the parking lot.  I know I JOKE about her demise, but I certainly didn't want it to happen here, in front of the boys.  I'm not ready to start them in therapy, YET.


Normally this dog is up my butt.  Not today.  She's prancing through the parking lot like she is competing at Westminster.

Big E is still gripping the leash, he hasn't noticed his dog is headed for the hills. Somehow, Little E has attempted self-strangulation in the slack of the leash.  I want to cry.

I quickly decided on which child to save.

I wasn't about to let go of my children, but I really didn't want to stand by and watch the dog become roadkill.


Thank goodness for the minivan.  I pressed the button and both doors slid open. Poodle Yoy took one look at Big E's portable toilet, licked her chops, and jumped right in.  Crisis averted.

I would like to point out that no one offered to help during the chaos and therefore I would like to revise my city's slogan.

Atlanta: the city too busy to hate help Mrs. Yoy.

Fancy Girl


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