giant water-dish

The Keed.

Killian laps from his giant water-dish.

Yesterday (Wednesday, June 6, 2007) we bought our dog Killian a giant water-dish at the mighty Canandaigua Wal*Mart.
This was coupled to a trip to the Canandaigua YMCA and Weggers.
Wal*Mart, “your source for cheap plastic crap,” is of course the greatest store in the entire known universe (so I’m told).
To Wal*Mart it’s a kiddie-pool, but our dogs have always considered it a giant water-dish.
We have another water-dish in the basement about twice as big with three-four times the capacity.
Sabrina liked to stand in it, but Killian was timid.
So we got Killian a smaller water-dish.
The larger water-dish was also from Wal*Mart, although an earlier iteration thereof — the tiny and cramped Canandaigua Wal*Mart of old, with crowded aisles and angry associates.
The new Canandaigua Wal*Mart, opened a few months ago, is much better, and the giant water-dishes were outside.
This meant not having to use the dreaded main-entrance and risk getting bussed by a foul-smelling geezer.
A trip to Wal*Mart is essentially another errand. It’s about a mile further out past Weggers — three additional stop-lights (each with dedicated left-turn lanes).
Then there is negotiating the contorted parking-lot trying to avoid Granny, and the glowering-intimidators in their hard-charging full-size Chevy pickups liberally festooned with “Support-Our-Troops” ribbons, anti gun-control stickers, and Calvin peeing onto the Ford oval.
A trip to Wal*Mart is at least 20-30 minutes, which is additional time the dog is alone abandoned in the house listening to Dubya-Hex-Hex-Hi (we hope not opera).
And a trip to Wal*Mart is also perusal of other aisles — like Wal*Mart might have the Impatiens flowers my wife is looking for, except they looked rather putrid, and cost as much as the Flower-Farm (“Nobody beats Wal*Mart”).
We also could have looked for an outdoor-thermometer to replace the 20-some year old one we had that fell apart, but that would have meant the dreaded main-entrance (STINKING GEEZER ALERT), then finding same, and then perhaps checkout.
Add 10-15 minutes.
The outdoor-thermometer gets bunted to mighty Lowes, where I also need to purchase a special outdoor light-bulb.

“Weggers” is Wegmans, a giant supermarket-chain based in Rochester we buy groceries at.

My macho, loud-mouthed brother-in-Boston claims Wal*Mart is “the greatest store in the entire known universe;” and that I am reprehensible for not enthusiastically patronizing it. No matter that doing so would add 20-30 minutes to errands.

“Sabrina” was our other Irish-Setter rescue-dog beside Killian. She died at 11+ last March — cancer.

“Foul-smelling geezer” equals the Wal*Mart greeter.

“Calvin” is the nasty cartoon-character from the Calvin and Hobbs Cartoon.

“Dubya-Hex-Hex-Hi” (WXXI) is the classical-music FM radio-station out of Rochester we listen to.

“The Flower-Farm” in nearby Honeoye Falls is where my wife usually buys plants.

“Mighty Lowes” is right next to Wal*Mart — a Lowes.