Our cat tends to only eat a small amount of food each day — usually a portion of dry food in the morning and wet food or fish at night. She also has a sensitive stomach so she tends to be unable to eat foods in jelly as they make her sick.

My family is going away and we need to find a cattery to book her into for a few days. I call a cattery and all is normal until:

Me: “I just wanted to check on what wet food you give the cats?”

Owner: “We use [Brand] jelly food.”

Me: “Oh, would you be able to make an exception on the jelly? It tends to make my cat sick.”

Owner: “No. Jelly is cheaper.”

I think to myself, “No, it’s not.”

Me: “I’m happy to provide the sachets myself if that’s required.”

Owner: *Louder* “NO! Jelly is cheaper. You’re indulging your cat.”

Me: “If giving her food that doesn’t make her sick is ‘indulging’ her, I’ll continue to do so. Thank you for your time.”

Owner: “You’ll be sorry for indulging her!” *Click*

I found a cattery who was happy to take on her dietary needs, and when I came back from the trip, my cat was very happy. The owner of the other cattery turned out to have only just started and was trying to establish rules and cut costs.

I work in a vet clinic that also boards dogs and cats while their owners are on vacation. A client is picking up her dog after it has boarded with us for about a week, and because she did not leave a leash or collar with us or bring one to pick the dog up with, I bring the dog out on a disposable nylon slip leash that she can keep. The dog is very excited to see her owner and pulls on the leash to get to her, which is unusual for her. 

Me: “Here she is!”

Owner: “Be careful with her; don’t pull the leash so hard! She had surgery to remove a tumor from her neck a few weeks ago!”

Me: “She’s just excited to see you; don’t worry. She never pulls on walks.”

I return to the back and talk to my coworkers.

Me: “If she was so worried about her dog’s neck, she should have brought us her harness, or at least a collar.”

Coworker: “Some people just don’t get it.”

Three days later, the owner’s husband came back to bring the dog to board with us again. He brought her in on the same blue plastic slip leash. When I took the leash, he reminded me to be careful of her neck, despite the fact that if he’d bought a harness nothing would ever even need to touch her neck. I put her in a run and banged my head against a wall repeatedly.

The kennel I work for offers multiple sizes and types of runs for our guests. They range from simple sheet metal with concrete floors, to sliding glass doors with a doggie door, to a private fenced patio and a TV and fancy dog bed in the run.

A family with a young girl is dropping off their dog for a week in one of the mid-price runs. They ask to walk her to the run, which we allow.

After we get the dog all set up with her bed and water bowl, the little girl says:

Girl: “So, where is Spike going to sleep?”

I’m a bit confused because the dog’s name is not Spike.

Mom: “What do you mean, honey?”

Girl: “Dogs can’t go to Disney, so Spike has to stay here, too.”

The girl pulls a stuffed dog out of her backpack.

Girl: “Where does he sleep?”

Me: “Well, why don’t I give you the tour? You can decide which run he gets.”

I take the family on the full tour just like I would anyone that asked, and the little girl decides Spike should get the super deluxe extra-large suite, of course. So, I set it up for Spike, and she puts him on the bed, pats him on the head, and tells him to be good for the week and she’ll bring him something from Disney.

As we are walking out, her father whispers:

Father: “So, how much is Spike’s room going to cost me?”

Me: “As soon as y’all are off property, Spike is getting wrapped in a plastic bag, labeled, and put in the storage closet.”

He slipped me a $50 bill!

This story is part of our Most Inspirational Of 2020 roundup!

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I am a skinny twenty-three-year-old girl working a manual labor job. Because of the job, I am actually very strong, able to lift about eighty pounds in front of me.

Me: “I can take your bag of dog food and blankets into the kennel with me.”

Client: “Oh, no, the food is very heavy. I can carry it for you.”

Me: “Sir, it’s only forty pounds. I can get it. Besides, I need to take it into an Employees Only area.”

Client: “Oh. Maybe we should wait until one of the male employees is ready. I’m sure he’ll be able to get it.”

Me: “We don’t currently have any male employees. Besides, I lift much heavier things every day.”

Client: “That’s discrimination! You can’t have an all-female staff!”

Me: “It’s not that my boss doesn’t hire males; it’s that we currently only have women working here. We had a guy who quit last month.”

Client: “Oh… Well, let me carry the food.”

Ignoring him, I lift the bag of dog food in a fireman’s carry and run with it the hundred yards across the play yard into the kennel. When I come back to the office, I ask the client:

Me: “So. Do you want your dog bathed before she is returned?”

Client: “That would be great. Wow. That was really impressive. You’re way stronger than you look!”

Me: “Thanks! Have a nice day!”

Since then, he has been very pleasant and has returned to the kennel several times.

(One of our regular guests is a very active miniature pinscher who regularly boards for multiple weeks at a time while her owner works on an oilrig and has been coming to us for six years. My coworker has been working here for a few months now and [Dog] has boarded with us at least twice since he started. Most recently, [Dog] has been boarding for two weeks in the section that coworker has been assigned to every day. So, for two weeks, he has fed, walked, and played with this dog multiple times a day. This conversation happens Tuesday morning while we are at the sink doing the breakfast dishes after the morning walks. [Coworker] has been off since Friday while I worked all weekend.)

Coworker: “Hey, [My Name], what happened to [Dog]’s leg?

Me: “Oh, it got stuck under a hurricane fence, and between her struggling and the owner not knowing how to get her out, the muscles were shredded to the point where the vet had no choice but to take it off.”

Coworker: “That sucks. She healed up pretty well, though, and she runs like she still has all four.”

Me: “Yeah, she’s a tough little thing.”

Coworker: “Which fence was it? I didn’t think we had any hurricane fences.”

Me: “I don’t know; it wasn’t here. Her owner had taken her for a walk somewhere.”

Coworker: “Oh, poor Mr. [Owner], that must have been terrible for him.”

Me: “Yeah, and he had to go to work right after [Dog] got out of the vet’s, but we handled the post-surgical care here. It was actually easier than you’d think. [Dog] was a great patient; well, she was sedated most of the time. The only time I think I’ve ever walked into her run and not been jumped on.”

Coworker: “Sure healed fast. I mean, I couldn’t even find a scar.”

Me: “Well, yeah, I guess.”

Coworker: “I mean, if it was a human they’d keep us in the hospital for months after that, but they sent her back right away.”

Me: “What?”

Coworker: “I mean, it just happened on Saturday, right?”

Me: “What? No, that was like three years ago.”

Coworker: “What?”

Me: “She’s literally only had three legs for as long as you’ve known her. You only just now noticed?”

Coworker: “Yeah.”

Me: “It’s her front leg! She spends her entire playtime trying to climb into your lap and lick you to death. How did you not… You seriously thought they amputated a leg over the weekend and it looks like that now?”

Coworker: “Um…”

(The rest of the staff all got a good laugh when we told them the story. We all agreed that given how fast [Dog] moves and how little her injury bothers her, the oversight was understandable. But his secret Santa at that year’s Christmas party got him a coffee cup that said, “Least observant employee award.”)