It is true what they say: the People of Walmart really are a different breed. And unfortunately I am among them, since I currently lack the funds to shop anywhere more upscale. I personally loathe Walmart, but because they carry a plethora of cheap crap my pocketbook appreciates them.
My philosophy on shopping at hell - er, Walmart - is to get in and get out as quickly as possible. Speed walk around the old people, don't make eye contact, and certainly no engaging in idle chit chat with random strangers. So imagine my joy when I encountered not merely one, but two, crazy cat ladies in the cat litter aisle during my visit today.
I was picking up a bag of the cheapest cat litter possible for The Dumb Cat when I heard a woman yell "hiiiiyaaa!" and a loud crash. I whipped around to find myself face-to-face with a stocky woman dressed head-to-toe in camouflage with greasy hair and a “not-quite-all-there” look in her eyes. Apparently she had just hoisted a bag of cat litter into her cart and she wanted me to know how heavy it was. I had been following my strict no eye contact rule, but she seemed to think I wanted to talk to her anyway, and she exclaimed, “Those durn things sure are heavy!”
I nodded and smiled. Very brief eye contact.
“Our animals sure are expensive.”
"Our" animals? I don't know you, and we certainly don't have any animals together. But I nodded and smiled again, “For sure.” Broke eye contact and pretended to rifle through my purse.
“But you know, at least they are cheaper than those durn dogs!”
I was trying to back away from her at this point.
“But at least I only have two of them!”
Please stop talking to me, you crazy cat lady.
“But we sure do love our kitties, don’t we?”
Nervous laughter from me, “Yep.” I was really trying to get away from her now.
“My cats know when I come home from Walmart and if they see a Walmart bag and there isn’t something in there for them, there is trouble.”
Okay, what? I’m really sure your cats know how to read and recognize the Walmart bag.
I had almost managed to push my cart past her when a 150-year-old lady with a handkerchief tied around her head shoved her cart in front of mine, blocking my escape route. She piped up, “Well my daughter has eight cats, isn’t that something?”
Please, please don’t start listing all their names.
Crazy camouflage lady was impressed. “Wow, eight?”
The walking skeleton continued, “But you know, she lives in the country so that’s something. She has more room out there.”
Seriously? How did I get sucked into this inane cat conversation? I smiled at the ancient lady as I slowly backed my cart away and said “oh shoot, I forgot something down this way” as I speed walked in the opposite direction.
So yes, I do have to be in the cat litter aisle to pick up some litter from time to time. So yes, perhaps there was no way around eventually getting caught between two crazy cat ladies. But let me clarify for the record that just because I happen to have one Dumb Cat whom I begrudgingly like and occasionally cuddle (but mostly yell at), that does not include me in their weird little “Kitty Club.” First of all, I’m not even a “cat person” and the only reason I have one at all is because I asked for a dog for my birthday and got a cat instead, so what was I going to do, give it back? So it will live with me until it dies of natural causes, which with any luck will be sometime before it manages to pee on every piece of furniture I own. And then I will probably get a dog, like most normal people would. Secondly, I would never call my cat a “kitty” either. It's annoying, and considering he is seven years old, I’m fairly certain that he qualifies as a senior citizen cat anyway since he just eats, lies around, and complains about life very loudly at every opportunity.
I’m convinced that at any given time there are least a dozen crazies wandering the aisles looking for innocent shoppers (me) to annoy. Once again, the People of Walmart never disappoint.
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