It was the 4th of July...a hot, breezeless Wednesday. Montana and I had packed up the car for a day at Aunt Cindy's pool and an evening of fireworks. A stop for gas in Mountain Grove ($2.59! YAY!) and a brief entrance into Wal-mart. (Don't worry...I left the car running with the AC full blast for Montana.)
I followed a couple in through the double doors. I was in a hurry. They were not. Bickering back and forth, she was limping, pushing a cart with two barefooted, dirty-faced children in it, and he walked with a cane and carried a diaper-clad boy. I wanted to rush around them when they stopped mid-stream...in the foyer...between the entrance doors and real entrance doors.
Their attention to their left made me look too. Between the quarter motorcyle ride and the 50 cent "Claw a stuffed animal" game lay a tiny Pug dog. "Wow, Mama! That thing sure is fat!" one of the barefooted kids in the cart shouted. Mama replies "Look at that thing, Denny...it's bloated." Denny, looking closing, says "She's not bloated, she's having a baby" and using his cane as a pointing stick he adds "look at it's butt." And sure enough, this little Pug dog was laying, pregnant on the cool tile of the Mountain Grove Wal-Mart, giving birth to little Pug babies on the Fourth of July.
Oh, the chaos that ensued. I felt for this little girl, now an exhibition. Wal-Mart employees were quickly notified, and by the time I left the building, the floor was being disinfected and the Pug lay outside under a parking lot tree with kids surrounding her watching the miracle of life...for free.
