I didn’t see its face until after parking and after leaving the vehicle. It was staring out the window of the SUV two spots down from my car. The Wegmans in Auburn, NY, isn’t the best parking lot in all of the land, regardless if it connected with the high-and-mighty Rochester-based grocer.
It is high-and-mighty, because it wants to be. It, Wegmans, has expectations to fill.
Chihuahua propped up on its front paws, which were resting on the plastic part above the door handle. It’s that thing with the small hole for pennies, dust, and used gum that is wrapped up in a small piece of paper.
The dog stared at me, and it wore a smug look on its face (similar to that of the picture found attached to this post, found by doing a simple Google search and at ebayclassifieds … of all places … I wouldn’t trust it.)
The site, not the dog. However, the trust in the dog is still up for discussion and determination.
It — the use of “it” is not to insult the integrity of the dog, but it’s because the gender couldn’t be determined — was wearing a sweater that his mother or grandmother probably knitted, but I was wearing a cardigan myself. It isn’t a homemade cardigan, but a light sweater nonetheless. The dog was wearing a collar — a tight little choker for such a neck-less pup — and I was donning a tie.
We both looked stupid. However, the dog had the upper hand, because I’m human.
The chihuahua was smirking because he and I were the same at the moment. The only difference was that I was outside. I was free. I didn’t have to walk up to the window and make faces at the animal. I didn’t have to do a victory dance, and The Bird didn’t have to be flipped. I just talked to it as if it could hear me.
It stayed put, looking out the window and not blinking. Chihuahua could have been dead and positioned as so.
But maybe it wanted to simply play. Maybe it wished the windows were rolled down a bit. Maybe the dog just wanted to just continually mock me, because it is catered to paw and … paw.
The nose — mine or the dog’s — wasn’t even close enough to the window to generate a foggy blotch.
As I walked away, we kept eye contact. The chihuahua still wore that sweater and that smirk. I kept my eye on the quadruped as if it was going to shoot me in the back — or, even worse, jump on my back — when I turned. There is nothing worse than little paws over both of your eyes, playing demonically possessed “Guess Who?!?”
Instead, the glimmer in its eyes spoke silently: “I will find you.”
But the SUV was gone after returning to the car. The damned thing probably drove it away.