Pet Store Love
Dogs of all sizes rambled down the aisles, barking at each other on occasion, as their owners were indignantly pulled along. Parakeets chirped incessantly, answering each others’ indistinguishable calls, and smashed their wings against their manmade confines. Hamsters scrambled aimlessly through yellow, red, and blue plastic tunnels, winding down into their crowded feces-covered dens. As the animals continued in their natural ways, filling the cold fluorescent store with a sensation of fabricated life, the routine of Glen’s Wednesday evening went unnoticed to them just as they went unnoticed to him.
Glen was quite adept at ignoring the commotion of his surroundings, able to maintain a singular focus on the lonely PETCO cashier, Carla, waiting as always in his refined stoic fashion. Glen stood long, exceeding the length of his tattered Salvation Army jacket, stained white T-shirt, and worn stonewashed jeans. His only movements were directed towards his thinning hair, straining it back and releasing the sweat and grease from his hands in a grooming manner akin to a creature of limited resources. Glen was a man with purpose in all that he did.
As always, Glen waited quietly behind the “Wait Here for Next Cashier” sign, reading it in his literal way and smiling politely. On this evening, a young father and his rambunctious son were being serviced in front of Glen. The son grabbed everything in his path: pet magazines, dog treats, key chains, and the litany of other impulse buys the pet store placed conveniently on the customers’ way out. The father continued to swat away every item his son grabbed, often returning it to the wrong place and offering an unacknowledged yet frequently challenged explanation. “No! You can’t have that…Because we don’t even own a cat so we don’t need an ‘I Love Cats’ Key Chain!” Glen laughed as he realized that the key chain was the same one he first noticed Carla owned when they originally met at the super market waiting in line together at the deli counter.
As Carla rung up the young father’s bill, Glen continued to wait patiently, ignoring the antics of the young boy and his father’s ineffective reprimands. Glen knew that his Wednesday ritual of a quiet conversation with Carla would eventually come to fruition. He felt great comfort in this fact and this comfort supplied Glen with the requisite patience to disregard everything else around him. He knew what he had come for and he would not let anything distract his focus. Thus was the nature of his interest.
However, on this evening, there was a rare influx of shoppers for such a late hour. As Glen looked around at the unusually crowded store, he contemplated the possibility of another cashier being added to expedite a potentially larger line. And as Glen considered this, he couldn’t help thinking how such a crisis would affect him, and he wondered if he would simply wait for Carla to be available like one does with certain barbers. But this was a pet store, he thought to himself, people would find that odd.
But just as his apprehensions started to boil over and the sweat from his brow started to appear, the young father and son proceeded out the door and Carla looked up from closing the cash register drawer, meeting Glen’s eyes in a quiet recognition of contentment. Glen turned behind him, to be sure he would have enough time and space to converse freely, as well as to verify Carla’s distinct acknowledgment of his presence.
Holding the case of cat food and mouse traps in both hands, Glen approached quietly and confidently towards the register, never losing sight of Carla, and gently laid the food on the small counter, barely making a sound the entire time. The standard pleasantries ensued. Exchanges of sincere interest in each other’s cats carried the conversation in the same direction as always. Glen, seeing his window of companionship closing as the other customers began to come towards the checkout and knowing they wouldn’t abide the sign as literally as he did, opted to spring upon Carla the question that had occupied his mind since they first met four months ago. “Carla, would you like to go out some time?”
----------------------------
The evening was a success in Glen’s eyes. He enjoyed the playful conversation over dinner. He listened with great interest as Carla discussed her cats and their habits. “The one, Marley, just plays with his toys all day” she began. “He never needs anyone else. I feel a great connection to him because of that.” As she said it, she looked across the table, past the artificial candle that flickered large silhouettes of controlled fire, meeting Glen’s eyes in their gray intensity. She found in them an exciting discomfort, inciting a sensation of familiarity she couldn’t quite grasp. “How about your other cats?” Glen coolly asked, “Do they create any sensations in you as well?” Carla merely laughed, continuing the gentle back and forth banter, beguiling Glen with her coyness and reservations.
Glen took the bait, taking the reigns of the conversation. “My favorite is Winston. He has this incredible patience, almost like a trained dog that’s forced to wait for its dinner.” Glen looked up, noticing Carla’s intrigue, continuing, “But the thing is I never trained him to do that. He just seemed to understand that certain things are worth the wait and they need to be savored.” As he finished, he reached for his beer, finished it, and excused himself to the bathroom.
----------------------------
Glen wasn’t surprised that Carla said yes to his request to come back to his house. The attraction was palpable. Glen was so confident in Carla’s interest, even prior to leaving for dinner, that he cleaned his entire place, washed his sheets, and lit candles to remove any foul scents. As they arrived at the house, pulling down the long driveway, Carla gazed at the wooded surroundings and contemplated at how quiet it was. After parking, Glen swiftly ran to the other side of the car to open the door for Carla, but she already had, pushing the heavy Monte Carlo door open and knocking the trashcans next to it over. Embarrassed, Carla collapsed to the ground to help pick up the trash. Glen was already there, telling her not to worry before she could apologize.
Carla already had a pile of trash in her hands, waiting to throw it out as Glen put the cans upright. She looked and noticed she was holding empty boxes of mouse traps and plastic wrappers of mouse poison. “Your cats pacifists?” She playfully inquired. Glen had to look down at her hands to understand what she meant. “Oh…no. It’s just out here in the woods, they’re hard to control. Even with the cats.”
They headed inside, using the back door. Carla continued to think about the stillness and silence of the surroundings and it made her shutter. Glen escorted her through the kitchen and into a small, dimly light room with off-colored carpets, wood-paneled walls, and a small TV in the corner. Although it felt dirty, with its outdated décor, it was actually quite clean. Glen left her there while he went to get a few drinks and a snack. As she sat waiting for him to get back, Carla couldn’t help but notice how fresh it smelled. She shouted into the other room “It smells so good in here, you’d never even know that you owned any cats!” Glen laughed and replied, “Country Living!”
Glen eventually returned with a few beers and a bowl of pretzels. As they talked, Carla started to feel comfortable again, laughing at Glen’s predilection for old western films and obscure jazz artists. Their night carried and began to get late and Carla realized she must decide if she would stay or leave. “I feel like I should get going, but I just realized I haven’t seen any of your cats.” Glen smiled, “They’ll definitely be around in the morning. I let them roam free wherever they want. I think it’s wrong to deny them their natural desires.”
Just as he finished saying this, Carla shrieked at the top of lungs, “MOUSE!” as one came scrambling underneath the coffee table. But before she knew it, and before she could articulate another word, Glen had his heavy boot slammed down upon the gray rodent. All Carla heard was a light crunch and looked down to see a small splatter of brain and blood stained against the brown carpet and a small tail still wiggling from underneath Glen’s boot. She turned to Glen in a mild horror only to find him with a slight grin running across his face. As Glen slowly peeled his foot off the matted mess, a small gargle of blood, excrement, and crushed bone swirled together and elicited in Carla a sensation of nausea so powerful that she sped to the bathroom in the kitchen.
Properly relieved, Carla took a few minutes composing herself. After splashing some water on her face and rinsing her mouth, she took a few minutes to look around the large bathroom. It seemed to function as a storage area as well, with piles of laundry and old boxes strewn haphazardly about. Carla looked for a towel to dry her face and decided to open the closet. She opened the door and saw the proof to all her apprehensions since they pulled into the driveway. She stared blankly, the pounding of her heart rattling her eardrums so loudly that she didn’t hear the bathroom door open behind her and didn’t even see Glen standing inches from her. Eventually, Carla felt his dry breath on her neck, and as she turned away from the cases upon cases of cat food to face him, she used all of her remaining nerve to simply ask, “Where are all your cats?”
Glen just smiled again and then closed the door behind him.
Cats, Pet Stores, love 
Reader Comments (3)
Fast moving story with good ending. Your constant effort to reinforce the predator and prey motif has the reader anticipating something bad, but somehow I didn't see it coming. Any story with mice is skin crawling.
That is what makes the ending quite creepy. I liked the use of PETCO as the setting to talk about what animals are really like without societal inventions to hold us bound. I wonder what the parrots were saying.
I think the story told from one perspective would make it even creepier but then I think the surprise ending might not have worked. The ending is good because you didn't build the suspense or show the abnormaility of Glen too much.
I enjoyed the lunch and though I am not a pet person, I will avoid pet stores for quite some time nevertheless.
Good suspense building throughout. Along with Dugan, I noticed the motif of prey right away, but I left the story still holding out that maybe Glenn wasn't as bad a guy as I thought. Maybe he just came to see if Carla was okay. The use of the mouse to break the romantic tension was the best part for me, and Glenn's violence pretty much sealed the ending before the bathroom scene.
The whole story reminded me of a scene between Robert Duvall's character and a potential romantic interest in his last movie "Get Low". Like your protagonist, he plays a loner with a mysteriously strong sense of purpose. I won't tell you if he turns out to be as creepy as Glenn does or not, but I think you'd like the film.
Thanks for the read.
Great story! It flows really well and the characters, settings, and themes are genuine. I want to read more.
This could be a chapter in a book!