As I was heading up the grocery aisle, three young females were heading down the aisle with a puppy on a long leash.

The pup was up in a shelf smelling the goods. The girls pulled the leash, saying “git out of there.” I backed out.

I asked a store worker, “Do you allow dogs in here?”

He said, “Did you see a dog?”

I told him, “You answered a question with a question!”

He replied, “You need to see _____.”

I went to the service desk and asked, “Do you allow dogs in here?”

The clerk said, “You need to see _____. That’s his department.”

_____ appeared and asked, “Can I help you, sir?”

“Do you allow dogs in here?”

“We do if it’s a service dog. Was it a service dog?”

“I don’t think so. It was up in a shelf smelling around. But now it’s right there laying on the floor. Do you think it’s a service dog?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t asked them yet.”

“Well, they’re checking out. Are you gonna ask them?”

“No, I’m not.”

I went home without groceries and called the store manager.

Next week, same store, a woman was walking a dog by the meat counter.

“You got another dog in here,” I told the manager.

“Where is it?” he asked.

“It’s right there with people petting it.”

“Oh, I know that lady.”

“I’m talking about that dog. Does that look like a service dog to you?”

“Well, she told me it was.”

A man picked up a can of soup, and Ole Rover drove his nose right up the man’s rear end.

“Have you ever seen a service dog trained to do that?”

He walked off.

If either of those was a service dog, I’m on my way with Troy to put windows in the pyramids.

— Whitey Harwood

Salisbury