Customer: “Do you have anything for dogs that chew?”

Me: “We sure do! I can show you some of the sprays we have; you can spritz them on anything you don’t want the dog to chew on. There are a few different brands you can try—”

Customer: “I’m not looking for a spray. Do you have something like a pill?”

Me: *befuddled* “A pill?”

Customer: “Yeah.”

Me: “No, sir. There’s no pill that will stop a dog from chewing things. That’s what dogs do.”

Customer: “Then how about a muzzle?”

Me: *alarmed* “No, sir, you don’t want a muzzle. Those are to keep violent dogs from biting, not to stop a dog from chewing. You don’t want to keep a muzzle on all day. You can only have them on about forty-five minutes.”

Customer: *smiling* “I’m all right with that!”

Me: “…Forty-five minutes a DAY, sir.”

Customer: “That’s fine!”

Me: “Sir, a muzzle isn’t a teaching tool. Your dog won’t understand why you’re putting it on him. He won’t learn anything, and it won’t solve the problem.”

Customer: “Can you show me where they are, anyway?”

Me: “You know what, sir? Let me get you my dog trainer.”

Customer: *looking relieved, as if he expects the trainer to agree with him* “Okay, go ahead!”

(I hunted down my dog trainer and told her to switch customers with me. When I explained the situation, the color visibly drained from her face, and she rushed off to hunt him down. I found out later that she told him a muzzle would only make the problem worse. He said that if the chewing didn’t stop, he’d get rid of the dog. The customer had a toddler with him. In hindsight, since he thought a muzzle would keep a dog from chewing, I should have asked him if he put duct tape on his baby’s mouth to stop her from crying.)

A few days ago I accidentally left my phone at home, face up on my bed. I finally got home late in the evening and noticed I had several missed calls and a voicemail.

I listened to the voicemail, and it turned out to be a call-back from a 911 operator! “Hello, this is 911. We have received several hang-ups from this phone number. Please give us a call back at 911 or [local police department’s number].”

I was confused, as I obviously hadn’t been home to make those calls, and there weren’t just one or two calls… There were a total of six calls made throughout the day to 911.

I can only conclude my cats called 911 to report abuse for “never feeding” them!

(My husband and I go to a local downtown festival with another couple we’re friends with. The festival is dog-friendly, so our friends bring their golden retriever and we bring our Rottweiler. Everyone has a good time, and most of the people are polite and actually ask us if they can pet our dogs as we’re walking around. Later on, we’re having dinner on a cafe patio that is also dog-friendly. Both dogs are pretty tired at this point, and after a drink of water and a couple treats they’re both happily laying down under our table while the four of us eat. People continue to walk by, occasionally commenting on the dogs but leaving them alone. All of a sudden, I hear a high-pitched squeal from directly behind me.)

Strange Woman: “Oh, my God! Look at them! “

(A woman who appears to be around 30 years old LUNGES around my chair from behind and tries to reach under the table where the dogs are.)

Strange Woman: “They are so cute! SO cute! I want to pet them!”

(We are all so shocked that it takes a few seconds for one of us to speak up. I will also point out that she does not seem intoxicated or anything, just ridiculously excited and invasive.)

My Husband: “Ma’am, please back up. We’re eating dinner and the dogs are resting, as you can see. They’ve had a long day.”

Strange Woman: “Aww!” *sticks her lip out in an exaggerated pout, like a toddler* “Please?”

Friend’s Husband: *sigh* “Look. You can pet ours for a minute, but then we’d like to finish eating.”

(He calls their retriever out from under the table and she sits while the woman pets her. I’m trying to shield our Rottie with my legs. He’s a friendly dog, but he also has no problem letting people know when he’s had enough attention and I don’t even want to deal with it. But, of course, as soon as she finishes petting the retriever, she turns her sights on our dog.)

Strange Woman: “And now I want to pet you!”

Me: *keeping my legs in front of him* “No, thank you. He. Is. Tired. He doesn’t want attention right now.”

Strange Woman: “Oh, of course, he does!”

(She reaches her hands out, and as soon she gets near my legs our Rottie raises his head and, without growling, shows her his teeth.)

My Husband: “Okay, that’s it. Please leave us alone now.”

Strange Woman: *clapping her hands like she thinks she’s going to coax him out from under the table* “He’s not mad! That’s a submissive grin!”

Me: “Excuse me?!”

My Husband: *stands up* “Back off, now!”

Strange Woman: “Well, fine, then! But I’m telling you, it’s a submissive grin!”

(She huffs and walks away. Only then do we realize that a guy who’s been standing five feet away on the sidewalk is with her and has just stood there watching her the whole time! She grabs his arm and continues ranting about “submissive grins” until we can’t hear her anymore. I’m able to calm our Rottie down and we start eating again.)

Friend: “A submissive grin? Where the f*** did she get that?”

This story is part of our Golden Retriever roundup! This is the last story in the roundup, but we have plenty of others you might enjoy!

23 Hilarious Stories About Taking Your Dog To The Vet!

Read the next Golden Retriever roundup story!

Read the Golden Retriever roundup!

(We recently partnered with a local shelter to help get their animals adopted, by showcasing a few within our store. We generally don’t allow people to remove the animals from their cages for a day or so after they arrive, as they are usually stressed and we don’t want anyone to get hurt. As I’m putting our new shelter friends in their cages, one of the rabbits tries to bite, kick, and scratch me. I notify management, who tells me to just leave the rabbit in its cage and tell people not to touch it. To me, it would make sense to allow the poor creature to decompress off the sales floor for a few days, but I don’t make the rules. I print a sign that says, “I NEED SPACE. PLEASE KEEP YOUR FINGERS OUT OF MY CAGE. THANK YOU!” and hang it on the front of the cage. About an hour later, I’m helping a customer with an aquarium when I see a small boy with his father, looking at the rabbit. The father sticks his finger in the cage and pokes the rabbit’s backside. The rabbit jumps away from the father and the boy laughs.)

Me: “Uh, hey, guys. I’m sorry. That rabbit hasn’t quite adjusted to life in the store yet. We don’t want people trying to pet him.”

Father: “We’re not petting him.”

Me: “Then… what are you doing?”

Father: *matter-of-factly* “I’m touching him.”

Me: *inner sigh* “Please leave him alone. I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

Father: “You always tell people what to do?”

Me: “I do when they might get bitten.”

Father: “Mind your own business before I call corporate.”

(The son sticks his tongue out at me and they walk away. I return to the man I was originally talking to.)

Me: “I’m sorry about that. I just didn’t want that boy to get bitten.”

Customer: “It’s okay. You’re just looking out for your customers.”

Me: “Thank you for understanding.”

Customer: *laughs* “Ten dollars says one of them gets bitten later.”

Me: “Oh, no. I wouldn’t take that bet.”

(The man decides on an aquarium, and I help him load it on a flatbed to be loaded in his truck. While I’m on the register, the father from earlier comes storming up to me.)

Father: “You’re in a world of trouble, missy!”

Me: “Uh… Ex-excuse me?”

Father: “Your f****** rabbit just bit my son!”

Me: *deep breath, apologetic customer service tone* “Would you like to file an incident report? I can call a manager and get a first aid kit for your son.”

Father: “You’re d*** right, I do! And I’ll be suing the store and you!”

Customer: “Good luck with that.”

Father: “What did you say?”

Customer: “I said good luck. You were told not to mess with the rabbit, by her and the sign on the cage.”

Father: “It’s her job to read, not mine!” *storms off*

Me: “I told you so.”

Customer: “Ah, I wish you’d taken that bet.”

(The father did file an incident report and called corporate, claiming I told him it was perfectly fine to hold the rabbit and that I’d left them unattended. Our store doesn’t have cameras, so I could have been in serious trouble. Luckily, the customer I worked with also called corporate and gave them a heads up, complete with a photo of the rabbit and the sign, just in case. The boy was fine, mostly just scared, and since the rabbit didn’t break the skin, he didn’t have any medical bills.)

(I am a regular at a local sewing store where I’m also taking classes. One day I drop by to get fabric and decided to bring my dog, since my mum and I have to go there by car, anyway, and my dog is still kind of anxious about driving after a recent bad experience. When I bring her into the shop, this happens.)

Owner: “Oh, I’m sorry; you can’t bring your dog in here. My husband is really allergic to them.”

Me: “Sorry, I didn’t know that.”

Mum: “I’ll just take her out and wait in the car with her.”

Owner: “I’m really sorry. It’s not that I don’t like dogs. I love dogs, and yours looks really cute, but my husband swells up and can’t breathe when he’s near dog hair, and…”

Me: “Really, it’s no problem. She can use the time in the car, anyway.”

(We go on to discuss fabric choices for my project, and she helps me personally, since only one other customer is in the store who is already being helped by one of the employees. When we move closer to them to look at some belt straps, the owner notices that in a bag on the floor is a tiny dog, even smaller than mine.)

Owner: “Excuse me. I didn’t notice it before, but dogs are not allowed in this store. Please leave your dog outside.”

Customer: *in a tone so rude I can’t possibly portray it in writing* “It’s none of your business. He’s in a bag.” *turns back around to the employee*

Owner: “My husband is extremely allergic to dogs, so I have to ask you, again, to please take your dog outside, as I can’t have him in the store.”

Customer: “And where am I supposed to put him? My car? He’d just destroy it. No. I’m keeping him with me, in here.”

(The dog in question is a chihuahua in a closed bag, on a leash that ties him to said bag. He couldn’t possibly get out of there.)

Owner: “I frankly don’t care where you put your dog, as long as he’s not in my store. Please get him out of here now.”

Customer: “No. I won’t. And if you make me, you’ll lose me as a customer.”

Owner: “I don’t want you as a customer if you don’t take your dog outside right now!”

Customer: “I won’t.”

(With that, she turns back to the employee, who obviously doesn’t know how to deal with that and is extremely uncomfortable, but resumes helping the entitled woman with choosing some buttons. The owner is obviously furious but doesn’t know what else to do. I’m furious, too; the tone and general attitude of the customer are so rude, and to such a nice person, that I basically feel ashamed to belong to the same species as that person. After taking a deep breath and contemplating, I decide to step in.)

Me: *in a calm but incredibly icy tone, with my best menacing stare* “Excuse me.”

Customer: “What?”

Me: “I just took my dog outside to wait in the car, too. You have been asked repeatedly to remove your dog from this store. It is not okay to endanger the health of a human being just so your dog won’t have to spend ten minutes alone in a car. Do you really believe that the fifteen Euros you’re spending here are more important to [Owner] than her husband’s health? Pull yourself together, get rid of that attitude, and get your dog outside right now.”

Customer: “FINE! I will buy my buttons here, and then I will never come back! You’ve just lost a customer for life!”

Me: “Thank God. I wouldn’t like to encounter the likes of you in here ever again.”