Mister Culpepper Would Like the Cats Meow Massage Please
It was time for a Diet Pepsi break from my desk, so I headed out for the Chevron a couple blocks from my office. A few doors down, there’s this really old building that hosts a number of businesses and in the window I spotted this sign:
Massage Therapy For People and Animals
For people massages, you’ve got Sports, Swedish, Aromatherapy, Deep Tissue, Hot Stone, Shiatsu, Couples, etc. And, normally you’re in a room with mood lighting, a scented candle or incense is burning; you’re lying naked under an ultra soft warmed sheet, on a super comfy padded massage table, often with barely audible relaxation music playing in the background.
Now, imagine the conversation you’d have when you take your dopey yellow lab, let’s call him Mr. Culpepper, in for his first massage. You peruse the menu and tell the masseuse:
“He would like the German Shepherd Massage. He’s very active, you know; swims a lot. But wait, what’s the difference between that and the Border Collie rubdown? Oh no, he’s not that smart or hyper, just loves his babies and barks a lot. But wait. You also have the ‘warm tube sock from the dryer’ treatment. Holy cow! All these choices. Let me noodle on it a bit.”
“Now, I see here that the massage happens on real, just mowed, green grass. That’s terrific! Oh Mister Culpepper sweetie, you’ll love that! Okay and for a bit extra you say I can choose the aromatherapy package. Let’s see … unidentified dead animal, mom’s dirty underwear, other dog feces, organic lawn fertilizer, Q-tip with daddy ear wax, used feminine pad, or bacon scent? Definitely mom’s dirty underwear.”
“Health issues? Oh no, sometimes his breath is pretty bad, and his pads are a bit sensitive, no hip issues yet.”
“Anything else I need to ask about? Sure, good to know, like your humans clients, dogs will often drool, fall asleep, get an erection, or might have gas during the massage. Mister Culpepper does get embarrassed when he lets one go! He looks at his tail end, surprised that a sound came out of there. Anyway, okay, and lots of water afterwards.”
Quite pleased with the conversation going on in my head, I grab my soda at the store, and on the way back, something triggers my memory and I look at the sign in the window again.
The name of the masseuse: DOOLITTLE.
Really, I don’t make these things up (like the guy wearing the white bra on his head).
Being the thorough investigative reporter that I am, I go to the website, as I want to verify if this is a made up “cutesy” name or a real person.
Yup. Real person named DOOLITTLE.
You know, life just gets better and better.