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Dog day afternoon

On my way back to work from lunch, my car steered itself to a local pet store. I've been in a funky mood for a while, and I've found there's nothing like the sight and smell and feel of a rambunctious, cuddly puppy to put things right again. At least for the moment. I hate big chain pet stores, and this was one of them, because they get their dogs from puppy mills and charge ridiculous amounts of money. And sometimes they aren't even purebred. Inbred, maybe. Anyway, it was nearly $900 for a Lhasashon, or some such conglomeration of a Lhasa Apso and a Bichon Frise. White fluffball. Ultra froo-froo. Totally silly, and way too expensive for what is, essentially, a mutt.

I know that puppies are hard work. I've raised some, and they do their business on the carpet and chew up your favorite slippers, and generally wreak havoc until they're about 35 in dog years.

But when an employee (called a pet counselor..says so right on her nametag) put a furry, black and tan puppy into my arms, and he stretched his neck to lick my chin, I melted. He sniffed me and snorted, a tell-tale underbite snort that could only mean one thing—Shih Tzu. They're usually the froo-froo'est of the froo froo. If you've seen the movie Best in Show, Shih Tzus are the dogs owned by the gay male couple. The dogs, which had their bangs in top knots and fur that brushed the floor and made them look like mops with legs as they walked, posed as Rhett Butler and Scarlette O'Hara in a calendar photo shoot at the end of the film.

But this little guy nibbling at my shoestrings and chasing after a little red ball had spunk. I found out that he actually was a Shih Tzu/Poodle mix, which normally would make me make an "I just smelled rotting eggs" face. But this Shihpoo had the face of an Ewok from the Return of the Jedi film. The woman employee trying to sell him to me said that he was very smart. She claimed that the roof of his mouth indicates how smart he is; he has a very dark mouth, so very smart. I'm certain she thought I had "sucker" stamped on my forehead. And I'm even more certain she was desperate for a commission. I wonder how much of that $800 price tag gets put into her paycheck.

This store's mission, as indicated on its web site, reads: "Our pet counselors are dedicated to matching the right pet with the right customer and meeting the needs of both. To our customers who already have pets, we are dedicated to enhancing their knowledge and enjoyment of the human-animal bond." Translation: "We wanna suck every dime from your bank account, and we want to make sure you come back often for all your supplies, which we mark up 200 percent."

After the pup gave me one last lick and nuzzle against my neck, I handed him back. The woman handed me a business card and said she'd be working until 6. I think she and the pup were in cahoots.

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