Horsing Around

I was in the back room at the library, racking my brains and other organs for a blog topic. Other than talking about my gums I couldn't come up with anything exciting. Then Karen appeared. In a hoarse voice she rasped that I needed to come upstairs with her. There was a situation.

"A situation," I said. "My favorite."

She asked me to get the ADA service animal brochure. In it were the rules and regulations on what was a service dog, and what wasn't. It made for fascinating reading. Also, no other animal could fulfill the function of service except for... a miniature horse. The day a customer comes in with a wee horse will be my greatest day ever.

Maybe the "situation" was a service horse?!? I started to climb the stairs.

"Wait, wait. Just a minute."

I froze. The day before Karen had been very tired. It turned out she had run out of her pep pills for her MS, but today she was clearly on the horse again. She was more than peppy. Deranged? might be a good word. Coked up? Better. VIOLENTLY INSANE. Best.

We climbed the stairs together. I really didn't know what this was about, other than someone had an animal with them that they claimed was a service animal. And it wasn't a horse. (What's the point, then? I just want to ride the horsey!) We went over to one of the public computers. A middle-aged lady, with a knit rastacap over her head like an expanding bag of popcorn, sat with a brown poodle thing in her arms.

We stood before the lady. She didn't look pleased.

"Okay. Okay," Karen said. "Here's what it says."

"Wait, let me get this on video." The lady held up her phone, and then shot me (and my name tag) a look. "Hi, Greg."

"Hi!" I chirped. I was trying not to seem like the heavy. Goon was more of the vibe I was after.

Meanwhile Karen was raspily reading the rules and policies from the ADA brochure. The woman stopped her again.

"Why am I being harassed? Can I get back to what I was doing?"

"We just need to know why you have that huge dog," said Karen.

"It's not huge! And I need the dog for tactile reasons, for grounding." The lady was blinking rapidly.

"And what do you have?" Karen said.

"I'm not telling you that! Now. Are we done here?"

"Yes. For now."

Others were looking around at us. I continued to stand nearby like a tough guy. But my attempt to glower was melting into a gentle soup of apathy.

"For now?!? What does that mean?"

"Goodbye."

"Yes, goodbye. Go. Get lost! BYE!"

Karen gave me the ADA brochure. I went downstairs.

"It's never a horse," I sighed.

An elderly gentleman was cursing at our self-check. I went over to help him. He kept jabbing his huge, dirty thumb at the screen as if plugging a dyke.

"It's a touch-screen monitor, sir," I said. "Not a punch-screen."

Grumbling, grousing, the 107-year-old sailor stepped aside to let me show him how. When I got back to my desk, the popcorn-headed lady was waiting for me.

"I want to talk to whoever is managing this place."

"You just talked to her."

"She's the manager here?! She's stupid! Are you serious? That's one seriously stupid lady."

"Yeah," I said.

"Leadership is disappointing on so many levels these days."

"Mm."

"All right, my man. Later."

She walked to the doors. Then she turned, put on a pair of glasses (?)...

and left the building with her non-horse walking behind her.

I think I'll talk about my gums next week.