Dogs

I walked into the shop and our two dogs started barking. Big dogs! They were barricaded from the lobby by a door that was about a yard high, and they were fighting each other to get to me. Fortunately, I love both of these dogs. They belong to my son and daughter who run the shop now.

When I entered, two customers were at the counter talking with my daughter Susan. I hurried to my desk to put down my purse then turned to talk with them (and to hopefully remember who they were). They asked if we had received their logo yet. I waded through the barking dogs (one trying to block my path to get attention) to talk to my son about this. He looked up from the assembly he was working on and called to the customers across twenty feet of tables and dogs to tell them he got it but didn't know what to do with it. Great.

I made my way back through the dogs, one of whom almost tripped me. Susan told me to just say "No!" and hit her (the dog, not Susan), so I started doing this while Susan kept talking to one of the customers. I said to the other one (the customer, not the dog) that I was retiring and that Susan would be handling their order. He looked at me without the understanding, friendly smile I expected. The dogs barked. The customers walked out. They looked angry.

I didn't say anything about the dogs. I just secretly cursed myself up and down for that fateful moment when I agreed to let the first dog in on a trial basis. I mentally shot myself for the day I agreed to let the second dog stay there for a couple of hours while waiting to go to the vet. I mentally stuck my finger down my throat remembering the Saturday I spent moving supplies around to sweep dog hair from behind them and mopping the dried dog saliva spots off the 2,000 sq. ft. floor.

Fred and Susan say "most of" the customers love the dogs. Surely there's a reverse-marketing plan in there somewhere.

(PS - After reading this story, my kids decided to leave their dogs at home. I didn't raise no dummies!)