Kalah Allen

I heard you, though I pretended not to. You rolled your eyes to the cashier at the checkout as I walked past, pushing my shopping cart. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever seen,” you said. “What a sense of entitlement she must have.” You were mocking me because I have an invisible disability and am assisted by a service dog. You speculated that I “probably ordered that vest online.” You were convinced of your righteousness because my dog is a chihuahua, and as you loudly elaborated, you “have no idea how a dog like that could possibly be a service dog.” But you were wrong. I have an excruciatingly painful disability, that you cannot see and know nothing about. I have been assisted by a service dog for close to a decade. That’s MY business, not yours. But it might interest you to know that there are hundreds of tasks that unconventional-looking service dogs perform for their humans (e.g., medical alert, PTSD and OCD assistance, reminder cues, and fetching assistance, to name a few). You turned your own ignorance into a blade with which to cut me. After you left, the cashier came over and apologized for your despicable behavior, and told me how obnoxious you always are, and we laughed about your stupid face.—Anonymous