Where Sports And Pet Care Collide

Uncle AndrewUncle Andrew
Filed under: @ 8:54 am

Margaret and I wandered down to Petsmart yesterday to pick up a couple of things; she wanted to get part of a gift for a colleague who is leaving to set up her own practice, and while we were there I was hankerin’ for a new scoop for the cat box (and you know, once you get the hankerin’ for a new cat box scoop, ain’t nothin’ what’s gonna satisfy that there hankerin’ but a cat box scoop).

Apropos of nothing, I think it’s worthwhile to note that we don’t usually frequent Petsmart. Our locally-owned small-time pet store carries pretty much everything we need, and there are aspects of Petsmart that ick both of us out. For me it’s the feeling that most of the people in there love their pets way more than they actually care about them. Lots of folks seem to think of a dog or a cat as a kind of love machine (no, not that kind of love, get yer mind out of the gutter); a device that, if sufficient fuel is provided, will exude affection and companionship for years and years until it wears out, at which point you get another one. This machine doesn’t require medical care, high-quality food, exercise, parasite control, or behavioral analysis and modification; it’s a pet, after all, not a child or anything. Just give it lots of hugs and leftovers and store-bought flea remedies containing lethal doses of pyrethin and it’ll be fine. And if it doesn’t, well, plenty more where that came from, right?

Margaret’s biggest complaint about Petsmart seems to be the petri-dish effect of encouraging pet owners (and often not the most conscientious pet owners, see my point above) to bring their animals into the store to congregate and frolic and otherwise mix fluids. She’s treated dogs that have gotten into fights at Petsmart, she’s treated puppies with parvo that just came back from taking a big ol’ dump in the middle of an aisle at Petsmart, she’s dealt with the aftermath of obedience classes full of sneezing, hacking, plague-laden animals at Petsmart. It’s like kindergarten, only with fewer controls and (slightly) more feces.

Anyway, the real reason I’m writing this is the poop scoop. I found this awesome, tricked-out crap trapper at Petsmart, one with all the right features:


It’s made of sufficiently rigid material to handle the heaviest, um, load, it’s got a nice long handle to keep me as far away from the surface of the sand as possible, and the grip is all comfortable and ergonomic-like. This thing is probably one of the most sophisicated-looking pieces of hardware we own. It looks more like a piece of sports equipment. In fact, I’m tempted to go back and get another one and try out a game of cat turd Jai-Alai. Now, there’s a high-stakes sport for ya!

If you’re in the market for a new cat box scoop, I’d recomend this one unreservedly.

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