A Dollar’s Worth
By Alisa Dollar
Husband, Max the mini-doxie and I went to Ruidoso. We realized we’d forgotten Max’s walking leash. Rather than return to the house, husband decided to stop at Gebo’s to buy Wranglers and the leash. Before we got to Gebo’s I found a rubbed place on Max’s neck and decided to get a new collar as well.
For those that may not have experienced a Gebo’s it’s a lot like Sam’s only it has tall shelves. In other words, you can’t find anything even if you knew what you were looking for.
Max wanted his morning pit stop of the “need a poop bag” type and they were locked in the pickup. I went in to ask husband if he had one.
“How about this one?” Unfortunately, I had an 11-pound squirmy dog in my arms and was perhaps a little harsh in my reply. Or at least the man and woman behind the counter did a double take when I replied to husband’s choice of leash.
“He can’t have that leash, it’s green and yellow and that’s Baylor colors!”
The man and woman look at each other while husband pointed out it had tractors on it, not bears.
“That’s even worse!” Tractors? Good grief, I’d rather it’d been bears! “Why in the world would Max want tractors?”
“Alisa, if Max KNEW do you think he’d care?” Man and woman are looking back and forth as this conversation continues. Their gaze returned to me.
“Of course he would care! He knows he’s a Red Raider and besides, those colors don’t go with black and tan, they go with a more reddish blonde color.”
Exasperated he told me to go pick one.
Max has a new red leash and collar.
I remembered the bag. The man said he had one, but to forget about the pit stop. I informed him if I was buying a “whatever those things were out there” and stepped in something, I’d be upset. I got the bag.
Remembering Max’s boo-boo, I asked if they had anything medicinal like. Husband went with the man and they came back with a salve called Corona saying it could also be used on humans’ chapped skin as well.
“Was it made in Mexico too?”
If a pin dropped it would’ve sounded like a crash. Three sets of eyes stared.
“You know, like that beer?”
I still don’t get why they (including husband) didn’t get it.
That’s my last stop at Gebo’s.