(I have recently adopted a new kitten. I am taking him to the vet to get his vaccinations and to get neutered. He is sitting in a cat carrier next to me in the waiting room. As cats often do, he is sitting with his paws all tucked under his body so you can’t see any of them. A little girl, about five or so, approaches me and we have the following exchange:)

Girl: “I have a really important question about your cat!”

Me: “Absolutely. What’s up?”

Girl: “I’ve never had a cat! I’ve got a dog–” *points to her dog* “–and I was wondering if you brought your cat to the vet because he doesn’t have any feet? I would worry if my dog didn’t have any feet.”

(I start laughing and pull my kitten out of the carrier, revealing that he did in fact, have feet. She was very relieved.)

I decide to take a trip to the dog park with my boyfriend, his brother, and our dogs. As we get there, we enter the small dog section, since our dogs are fairly small.

We’re just walking around looking at other dogs playing with each other when, all of a sudden, we hear a very loud scream from some guy in the big dog section. Apparently, he is fighting with another dog owner, since her dog has been trying to get it on with multiple dogs in the big dog section.

This argument goes on for a while and each party seems to be saying some messed up s*** towards each other. I turn around and see all the owners from the small dog section huddling towards the gate like a flock of pigeons looking over to see what the two are fighting about.

This fight legit goes on for fifteen minutes and it goes nowhere, until I hear one elderly man go over to his other friend that’s still invested in the people fighting and tells him that this is such bulls*** and a waste of time, and there are more exciting things in life. Then, he says, “Here, let me give you some Viagra.”

An acquaintance sells T-shirts and other items printed with designs she creates. She usually sets up a table and has some of the shirts pinned so that they are hanging over the side of the table to ensure the designs are clearly and completely visible. 

Apparently, several other dog owners have been just as inattentive as the woman in this tale but the others have all at least taken monetary responsibility. Seriously, people, no matter how much you love them, your dog is a creature for whose actions you are responsible!

One day, my acquaintance was selling her wares near a farmers’ market and a woman with two dogs came near the table where she was displaying her art and T-shirts. One dog proceeded to pee on two of the T-shirts that were hanging from the table.

The owner did nothing.

The seller tried to call the dog owner out for this and get her to buy the soiled merchandise — they aren’t even that expensive. The woman’s response? “Well, you are on the street.”

And then, she walked away with her dogs and accused the seller of harassment when she followed to demand an explanation.

(I work at a large, national retail store as a cashier. It is a quiet night, and only one coworker and my manager are working with me. My manager comes walking up to my coworker and me.)

Manager: “So, uh, are either of you guys good with snakes? Because I’m terrified of them, and a customer just came in and asked for help. She thinks there’s a snake in her van and is scared to drive home.”

(My coworker and I look at each other.)

Coworker: “Ugh, I hate snakes!”

Me: “Actually, I have no problem with them. I live out by the woods; I’ve been catching garter snakes since I was little.”

(I followed the customer out to her van with a flashlight. It turned out that a garter snake had, indeed, found its way into her vehicle, and I fished it out for her. Whenever I’m asked at interviews how far I’d go to make a customer happy, I always tell this story. It’s certainly the oddest request I’ve ever had in more than ten years of working in customer service.)

(We get a lot of families with kids that just want to look at the animals. Sometimes the parents can be a bit clueless when it comes to anything other than a dog or a cat, so I have to have this conversation every couple of months. It’s important to note that my store only sells male small animals: guinea pigs, hamsters, etc.)

Customer: “Excuse me. I think this hamster is having a baby.”

(I go to look because, even though it’s very rare, our supplier sometimes sends a female by mistake.)

Me: “It’s not having a baby.”

Customer: “Then it’s got a massive tumor! Something’s wrong with it!”

Me: “Ma’am, that’s a male hamster, and that’s not a tumor. Those are testicles.”

(They usually get really quiet after that.)