Shame(on)us

So, my mother-in-law and I are spoiled, conniving, manipulative brats. Actually, I think brats might deserve capitalization. BRATS. Yes, there-- that's right.

As you all know, in May, our family lost our beloved chocolate lab, Hershey. It was horrible, horrible, horrible. Horrible. I miss him and, to this day, it's strange to go to my in-law's house and not have him barreling at you when you walk through the door. He was a good dog. No... he was a great dog.

A few weeks after Hershey's passing my M.I.L called to say she was interested in purchasing birds and, having owned birds for the better part of my life, would I go with her and help her pick one out? They would be our birds- she'd just keep them at her house. Hell yeah!

So we set a date and with good intentions we ventured out to make our avian purchase. Immediately when we pulled up to the store I stopped dead.

J: Oh crap!
L: What?!
J: Look at that sign! (Pointing to the large signage in the window) They have puppies here.
L: Shit! We're dead.
J: Yep. Dead.
L: We won't even look at them. We'll just go straight to get our birds then leave.
J: Yep. No looking.

So we did as we planned. We went straight over to the birds searching for a canary or a brightly colored lovebird. Nothing; not one bird that fit the "bill." (Haha, I kill me.)

J: You see anything?
L: No (Looking over my shoulder in the direction of the puppies which I had wisely turned my back to) I don't see anything. Let's just take a quick peek at the dogs.
J: Okay (Like she really needed to twist my arm.)

Now, I must note, I've never bought a puppy from a pet store. I think it perpetuates sub-par breeding methods and below average treatment of dogs. I don't, however, judge those who do; all dogs need a home. As we walked along the row of windows, each housing a delicious infant canine just waiting for a forever home, I couldn't help but calculate the wrath I would experience from my husband if one happened to come home to join Bing & Manny. I was snapped back to consciousnees when I heard Linda scream.

L: Oh my God. Shit! Shit! Shit!
J: What? (Expecting to see a gold dog with wings or something extraordinary) What is it?
L: It's a Cocker Spaniel. Oh my God! Come see it.

I unlocked my gaze from a hypnotizing Chihuahua to make my way over to Linda who was pressed against the glass.

L: They have a Cocker Spaniel! I have always wanted a Cocker Spaniel. I need to hold him.
J: (Scanning the room) I'll get the guy to come over here. (Making eye contact with the owner) Excuse me? We'd like to see something in this cage. (A normal thing for me to say except I usually say case not cage and I'm looking at a diamond, not a live animal.)

He pulled the small guy out and handed him to Linda who turned to putty before my eyes. Immediately as the puppy started squealing like a baby piglet, we got the basics. How old is he? 8 weeks. How much does he cost? $799. How big will he get? About 25-30 lbs. How long will he live? About 15 years.

L: Okay. We'll take him.
J: What? (I never put my cards on the table. We hadn't even started negotiating with this guy AND, more importantly, we hadn't talked to Jim!)
L: I want him so badly.
J: Yeah, he's cute but, he's a puppy. Puppies are cute. He's also 8 weeks old and 800 dollars. Jim will have a stroke. Shouldn't we consult him?
L: No. I want him.
J: Okay. Let's put him back and we'll start the negotiations.

As I suspected the minute the puppy was back to safety, locked away in his cage, Linda was able to sober up from the intoxication only a puppy can inflict.

L: Well, $800. That's a lot?
J: It sure is (using all my therapy skills to help her come to her own conclusion.)
L: He is so cute.
J: Absolutely adorable.
L: Do you think Jim will kill me?
J: You know the answer to that better than I do.
L: Yes. That's why you're going to talk him into it.
J: (Backfire- my psychology skills failed me!) What? Me? Why?
L: Because if anyone is going to get this puppy to come home, it's YOU! He can't say no to you!

Shit.

So, I was already guilty by association and, I guess, up for the challenge. We decided to drive home, it was only a few miles, and the convincing had to be done in person.

Now the ride wasn't that simple; we only had a few miles to scheme negotiate.

J: Okay, so, first thing's first. We have to present this puppy in the most personal way possible. We have to name it because then it will make the puppy more human, not just a puppy but, something sweet. As though it's already a part of the family.
L: Oh, yeah, that's a good idea. What should we call him... Owen?
J: No, nothing I could ever possibly name my child (Owen, by the way, isn't on our list, I just don't really care for the name and if I hated the name of the dog, it would be harder for me to negotiate.) How about Jack-a-moe?
L: No. That's too hard to say.
J: We need something related to Jim so he has a harder time to resist. What about something sports related? Or something Irish? O'Malley?
L: Oh My God, I have it! Shamus! Shamus is Gaelic for James. It means James!
J: Perfect. So, we'll talk to him about Shamus. We have to pretend we could take him or leave him, like we don't need him. AND, we have to be sure we use his name, a lot. Don't call it a puppy. Call him Shamus. Shamus Arizona. (They want to buy a house in Arizona and I forbid it, LOL) Let's lie about the price too. Let's tell him he's on sale for $799. Let's say we talked them down; Dad loves a good deal.
L: Okay, so... SHAMUS is 2 months old and...
J: No, we need to figure out how many days old he is. Let's do the math, quick, we're almost home. If we use days, instead of weeks or months, it makes him sound even cuter.

After further scheming discussion we decided how we were going to start the conversation. Finally we pulled into the driveway and as we entered the house, Jim (McPepe) was coming from upstairs, still in his work clothes, to greet us.

MP: Hey! Where's your bird?
J:  Alas (dropping my shoulders to feign disappointment) we didn't get one.
MP: Oh, how come? (It kills me how innocent he was at this point in the conversation- he was genuinely disappointed for us. We are awful people.)
J: Well, we didn't see one we liked. (shrugging- stealing a glance at Linda, she gives me the cue) Did you have a good day? (Oops, that came out a little too sweet.)
MP: Yes... (Putting the brakes on; I was a bit to quick- darn it!)
J: Do you want to sit down?
MP: Do I need to?
Shit, he's good
J: Do you want a drink?
MP: Do I need one?
J: Well, (matter-of-factly) we need to talk about Shamus.
MP: Who the Hell is Shamus?
J: Well, he's a 66-day-old Cocker Spaniel.
MP: A whatta-whatta?
J: He's going to be our dog.
MP: (Looking from me to Linda, who has yet to back me up and I'm sinking fast) Oh he is, is he?
J: Well, (pulling out my ace, the last card up my sleeve- the family card) not if you're not into it. We aren't going to get him if this isn't a complete family decision. (How, you ask, could it be a family decision when only 3 of the 6 of us were present? I stood my ground and tried to look resigned.) We don't have to get him. We are under no obligation. We didn't even put a deposit on Shamus Arizona. But, you could at least go look at him.

We piled into the car and drove back over to look at the dog we were under no obligation to buy. We arrived at the pet store and the owner smiled knowingly (suckers) as we walked back over the the crates. Linda, who had been pretty quiet, threw in her last ace.

L: That (pressing her manicured nail against the glass) is Shamus Molloy (Nicely played, Mom.)

The owner came over and scooped Shamey from his cage and made his way toward Linda. I was standing slightly behind Jim and I silently motioned to the clerk to hand the intoxicating puppy to Jim. He did as instructed, knowing I was on his side. He gave me a thankful smile and handed the dog to Dad. Shamus started squealing like a happy piglet and chewed at Jim's beard (well played Shamus, well played.)

MP: $799, huh? On sale?

L: Yes (hoping the clerk won't blow our cover, adds quickly) and dog food is included.

MP: Okay.

So, please welcome, Shamus Arizona Molloy. Linda and I like to refer to him as our Cocker-Canary and Jim always jokes "My wife and daughter went to get a bird and came home with a dog."

Shame on us ;)