My favorite store

I like shopping.

I didn't list shopping as one of my hobbies, because it's not really shopping I like--it's eating. But you see, the store where I shop, Mounds Pet Food Warehouse, you get to eat whatever you can find on the floor. Mom takes me to Mounds about twice per month. Sometimes my sister Juno comes along too, but that's not the point here. We usually stop at Mounds on the way home from the dog park in Verona. I get very excited about going to Mounds. In fact, I'm usually pretty happy to leave the park, because there's a good chance that Mounds will be the next stop. Then, when Mom gets into the left-hand turn lane, I just know that treats are in my near future!

Mom usually parks in the same place, to the left of the door, so I don't even have to think about which way to pull her when I hop out of the car. One time Mom parked on the right side of the door though, and I got confused and ran the wrong way! Dad was with us and he laughed and laughed. Very funny (not).

Once we're inside, the fun begins! We walk up and down the food isles, and usually there's at least one bag that's leaking, and little bits of kibble are strewn hither and yon (that means all over the place, for those of you who aren't so literate). Mom says maybe they should've called me "Hoover," the way I clean the floor (I guess President Hoover liked to eat too). Sometimes we have to go to the isle with collars, leashes, or bottles of pee-smell remover, but we don't dawdle there long. They have cats for adoption in the back, but I'm not there to adopt a darn cat. Although I do eat cat food if there's some on the floor.

Anyway, Mom usually picks up a bag or two of food plus some rawhides, and then we go to the "checkout." They call it checkout because that's where you can check out all the good treats in the bowl on the counter. The workers there all tell me how handsome I am, and then they toss me treats. And then Mom gives me treats. I really like it when there's a long line, because then I get more treats while we wait. Mom hands the nice people a piece of plastic, signs a piece of paper, and then we have to leave, even though I never want to leave. I would like to get a job at Mounds, but Mom says not till I'm at least 16! /psm