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Warning, slightly icky. Dogs doing their thing.
A routine situation in a vet hospital is, naturally, animals doing their business on the floor. Not a week goes by some Sparky doesn't mark the lobby tiles. No biggie, critters will be critters. It's a simple cleanup job.
I was passing through the lobby the other day when an overexcited pomeranian (you know, a Fizgig) shows its glee with an expanding yellow circle. I catch the eye of the nearest staff member, make sure they've notice, then continue on my way. But as I'm about to leave, I hear...
"You! Clean that up!" *snap snap*
Oooh, that's a tone of voice just begging to be mocked. I turn to look, and the soccer-mom-meets-socialite is snapping at the cashier like she expects him to pull a butler's uniform out of thin air. Big, sharp snaps too. She's had practice. The new cashier has that "I hate you" smile on his face, but he's already pulled out the spray and wipes.
He comes around to clean, and the Fizgig romps towards his shoes, trailing a stream behind. Gah, little dogs and their inbreeding issues. It's even worse that the thing has such long, now soaked, fur. Cashier steps back, clearly thinking he's not paid enough for this.
"Get to it!" the woman barks. *snap snap*
Okay, I shouldn't have, but it was instinct! I snapped. *snap snap*
She stares at me in confused shock. I stare back blankly. *blink blink* I'm good at blank stares.
Poor new cashier looks afraid the pint sized ball o' fuzz might snap at him, so I motion to him. "I'll clean it up, could you check the back for some newspaper?" He looks relieved, and hands the spray and wipes over quickly. Yeah, cleanup duty takes getting used to. Can't blame him.
"And don't you miss a spot!" the woman barks at me now. *snap snap*
My hands are full, so I clucked my tongue. *cluck cluck* Instinct, I swear!
She stares. I stare. *blink blink* "Could you pick up your dog, so that he doesn't trail?"
She looks disgusted by the prospect, and huffs. "That's your job. Clean it up already." *snap snap*
*click click*
*stare stare* *blink blink*
I shrug, put the cleaner down, and pick up the water spray. Yeah, we keep one on hand, just in case. I switch the nozzle to streaming, and give Fizgig an impromptu hosing. Fizgig freaks and bolts under the display cases. Yeah, another person that doesn't leash their dog properly.
I smile at the lady. "Do you want to get him or should I?" She huffs. So I kneel down by the hiding hole, and peer in. Hah, he's trapped. I spray him down, and he yelps and yelps and yelps.
"What are you doing to my dog?!"
"The opposite of what he did to my floor. If he soaks any of the merchandise, you're paying for it."
Epilogue : Manager came and offered to take care of things (demanded I stop scaring the customers), and I went on my way. I assume the floor got cleaned eventually.
A routine situation in a vet hospital is, naturally, animals doing their business on the floor. Not a week goes by some Sparky doesn't mark the lobby tiles. No biggie, critters will be critters. It's a simple cleanup job.
I was passing through the lobby the other day when an overexcited pomeranian (you know, a Fizgig) shows its glee with an expanding yellow circle. I catch the eye of the nearest staff member, make sure they've notice, then continue on my way. But as I'm about to leave, I hear...
"You! Clean that up!" *snap snap*
Oooh, that's a tone of voice just begging to be mocked. I turn to look, and the soccer-mom-meets-socialite is snapping at the cashier like she expects him to pull a butler's uniform out of thin air. Big, sharp snaps too. She's had practice. The new cashier has that "I hate you" smile on his face, but he's already pulled out the spray and wipes.
He comes around to clean, and the Fizgig romps towards his shoes, trailing a stream behind. Gah, little dogs and their inbreeding issues. It's even worse that the thing has such long, now soaked, fur. Cashier steps back, clearly thinking he's not paid enough for this.
"Get to it!" the woman barks. *snap snap*
Okay, I shouldn't have, but it was instinct! I snapped. *snap snap*
She stares at me in confused shock. I stare back blankly. *blink blink* I'm good at blank stares.
Poor new cashier looks afraid the pint sized ball o' fuzz might snap at him, so I motion to him. "I'll clean it up, could you check the back for some newspaper?" He looks relieved, and hands the spray and wipes over quickly. Yeah, cleanup duty takes getting used to. Can't blame him.
"And don't you miss a spot!" the woman barks at me now. *snap snap*
My hands are full, so I clucked my tongue. *cluck cluck* Instinct, I swear!
She stares. I stare. *blink blink* "Could you pick up your dog, so that he doesn't trail?"
She looks disgusted by the prospect, and huffs. "That's your job. Clean it up already." *snap snap*
*click click*
*stare stare* *blink blink*
I shrug, put the cleaner down, and pick up the water spray. Yeah, we keep one on hand, just in case. I switch the nozzle to streaming, and give Fizgig an impromptu hosing. Fizgig freaks and bolts under the display cases. Yeah, another person that doesn't leash their dog properly.
I smile at the lady. "Do you want to get him or should I?" She huffs. So I kneel down by the hiding hole, and peer in. Hah, he's trapped. I spray him down, and he yelps and yelps and yelps.
"What are you doing to my dog?!"
"The opposite of what he did to my floor. If he soaks any of the merchandise, you're paying for it."
Epilogue : Manager came and offered to take care of things (demanded I stop scaring the customers), and I went on my way. I assume the floor got cleaned eventually.
)
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