Not all businesses are welcome here

I was walking in Jenkins Park the other day near the dog park, when in rolled a beautiful Ford F-350 pulling what looked like a small animal trailer. It was obviously expensively modified with big black chrome bumpers and enough LED lighting to make it visible from the orbiting international space station. One of the next things I noticed was the bright orange California license plates and the graphic design of a oddly marked Pitt Bull Terrier on the driver’s door.

My first thought was Hollywood had arrived to shoot an episode of Pit Bulls & Parolees, but the tall Marlboro man-looking character who got out wasn’t wearing the usual garb of the show. On the contrary he looked like a... movie star and very rich. The woman who walked out of the passenger compartment was his match in female form. Both were elaborately tattooed all the way up to their chin.

They began to set up a small tent and station right in front of the dog park and I was curious, as were about a dozen disc golf folks and they didn’t keep us in suspense long. My jaw dropped when I found out they had literature and plans to open a shop on Texas Avenue to tattoo... animals! Yes, that’s right. Tattoo animals, birds, reptiles, and even fish. They claimed they had filed to open the business and it appeared it would go through by mid-April or earlier.

The trailer wasn’t an animal carrier; it was a rolling tattoo parlor and the exotic woman, who remained mute handed each of us 8X10 glossy photos of their work. The one she handed me was of a 14 pound Shih-Tzu minus its coat and mostly covered with what only could be described as a body sleeve of Celtic runes. On its back right above its tail was the usual scroll of odd designs so many woman sport. I was so astounded I couldn’t speak and she took my silence as one of open admiration of their work. The disc golfers thought it was “cool” and “awesome” as we passed the photos among us. One was a boa constrictor tatted to resemble a barber’s pole. It had what I would describe as sad eyes.

Another was a shaved cat that was checkered red and black like a board game, but the most bizarre was a featherless cockatiel covered in what looked like little pictures of Bernie’s face. “I don’t know y’all...” is all I could muster and I left the park, fully intending to call my council person and literally beg them to not give this business the go ahead. I’m not sure if they were breaking some law or not. I just knew I felt it was horribly inhumane.

That was a week ago and I haven’t made that call remembering the warm reception the golf guys gave them. Anyway, I think they will be opening a shop soon and I refuse to treat my doggies to this painful procedure no matter how “cool” and “awesome” some believe it to be. Maybe I’ll make that call after all.
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