It was a brisk Spring day, sunny, maybe fifty degrees, I was pushing the shopping cart out through the parking lot, when I noticed a couple taking a picture of car’s license plate.
Their gleeful expressions made me speed up so I could see what, I was sure, would be a rare and delightful vanity license plate like the “Assman” plate in “Seinfeld.”
As I came alongside the car, I saw a normal New York State license plate. I was disappointed and confused. Who takes pictures of random license plates? Maybe the driver had hit a neighboring car…?
The couple saw my confusion. They pointed to a third woman – a Hitchcockian nouveau-righteous stereotype – tapping on the photographed car’s window.
“Don’t worry babies! We’ll save you!” She looked at me, wanting me to join in. “Who leaves their sweet doggies in a hot car? They’re animals!”
She tapped the window again and the little dogs yipped and jumped in frenzy .
“Do you see how over-heated they are?” The woman continued.
“Maybe you shouldn’t tap on the window….” I started.
“Oh, so you’re protecting them?!” accused the man who had photographed the license plate.
“I’m just saying that the dogs are agitated....and it’s really not hot out. Look, we’re all wearing jackets,” I offered.
“THAT has nothing to do with it!” countered the photographer’s wife.
I shook my head and moved toward my own car. Ten steps away, a mother was dragging her son through the parking lot. I looked at the three outraged humans and waited for them to turn on the mother. Nothing. They were focused on sending those sons-of-b……to jail for dog abuse.
I called to the mother, “Hey, do you need a shopping cart? It’s so much easier when you have the kids in a cart….”
The mom’s face softened, and she lifted her boy into the cart, as I took my bags out.
Their gleeful expressions made me speed up so I could see what, I was sure, would be a rare and delightful vanity license plate like the “Assman” plate in “Seinfeld.”
As I came alongside the car, I saw a normal New York State license plate. I was disappointed and confused. Who takes pictures of random license plates? Maybe the driver had hit a neighboring car…?
The couple saw my confusion. They pointed to a third woman – a Hitchcockian nouveau-righteous stereotype – tapping on the photographed car’s window.
“Don’t worry babies! We’ll save you!” She looked at me, wanting me to join in. “Who leaves their sweet doggies in a hot car? They’re animals!”
She tapped the window again and the little dogs yipped and jumped in frenzy .
“Do you see how over-heated they are?” The woman continued.
“Maybe you shouldn’t tap on the window….” I started.
“Oh, so you’re protecting them?!” accused the man who had photographed the license plate.
“I’m just saying that the dogs are agitated....and it’s really not hot out. Look, we’re all wearing jackets,” I offered.
“THAT has nothing to do with it!” countered the photographer’s wife.
I shook my head and moved toward my own car. Ten steps away, a mother was dragging her son through the parking lot. I looked at the three outraged humans and waited for them to turn on the mother. Nothing. They were focused on sending those sons-of-b……to jail for dog abuse.
I called to the mother, “Hey, do you need a shopping cart? It’s so much easier when you have the kids in a cart….”
The mom’s face softened, and she lifted her boy into the cart, as I took my bags out.
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