Angel's Story

I first wrote this back in the beginning of 2004, but since today is the forth anniversary of Angel's adoption, I thought I would post it again today...

When my wife and I married she brought with her three kids, one cat and a dog. The dog, Mariah, belongs to her oldest boy, Rodrigo. The cat, Salem, belongs to her daughter, Jazmine. What follows is the story of how we brought my wife's dog, Angel into our lives.

There is a small tourist stop along the 101 highway in California near Carpinteria known as Santa Clause Lane. Until 2001, the most recognizable icon of that nifty little beach town was a large statue of Santa himself. That year Santa was removed from the top of the building of which he had been perched after more than fifty years. Having lived in the area since 1965 or so, I told my wife that before Santa came down from the roof-top for the last time, I would like to go down and take a few pictures of him. It was a drizzly day just four days after Christmas, and my wife was not in the happiest of moods, but she agreed to go nonetheless.

During the latter part of that year my wife had been toying with the idea of acquiring a dog for herself, and on the way to see Santa she brought up the subject of adopting a small lap dog. Usually this particular topic came up whenever she was feeling a little down, and although I really didn't want to share my home with a yappy, jealous little dog, I always tried to be positive about the idea without actually committing to it. This day, however, my wife was REALLY down, and so I suggested that after I took the pictures we might visit a couple of pet stores in the area and see if they had the breed she was looking for. Just so she could see first hand what she would be getting herself into, or so was my plan anyway.

Her first choice had been a toy variety of the poodle breed called a "teacup" poodle. Obviously so named because of their diminutive size. After much consideration and research, my wife decided that a Maltese would be a better choice.

She wanted a small dog she could take with her whenever she wanted, but she also wanted one that was well behaved, full of love, and of course very cute. She found during her research that Maltese generally meet these criteria. I called a number of pet stores in Carpinteria and Santa Barbara, but none had any Maltese pups available. I told my wife that we could go and look at the puppies anyway, but she declined. She wanted to see a Maltese, and that was all she was interested in. So we started to drive home.

As we headed north on the 101 Freeway I remembered that there was a pet store in a mall in Thousand Oaks, and so I suggested that we go look at the puppies there. I told her rather than calling ahead perhaps we should just drive up to T.O., take a quick look in the pet store, and maybe get a little something to eat since it was getting late. She acquiesced.

Now like I said before, my position on my wife's wish to get a little dog was to appear positive. Even during the short amount of time I had been married back then I had already learned to let her think she was getting her way. It makes for a much easier life. My master plan also counted on my wife's sense of practicality, which I thought would eventually lead her to the conclusion that had so firmly imbedded itself in my mind, which was that a dog would just be impractical for us at this point in our married life. I also thought that even if we DID find a Maltese at a pet store, which I believed to be highly unlikely, and even if my wife DID fall in love with one, I would be able to talk some sense into her and avoid the big purchase.

How wrong I can be.

By the time we got to the mall, my wife's mood had brightened considerably. I am not sure how or why, and you could've asked her at the time and I am sure she wouldn't have been able to tell you why either, but she really was much happier than when we were in Carpinteria. Upon our arrival to the Oaks Mall we made a beeline to the pet store on the second floor. My wife headed straight to the back of the store where they kept the puppies, and there, in a small glass booth in which to seclude you and a small, furry mammal from the rest of the store, (and perfectly engineered for the sole purpose of causing you to bond, fall in love with, and purchase said furry mammal,) was a lady holding the cutest Maltese pup you have ever seen. My wife pressed herself up against that glass booth like a lizard in a jar, and then turned to me and said, "There she is!" As those words left my wife's lips, I imagined cartoon bags with dollar signs and wings flying out of the window of my mind.

My wife's enthusiasm was not lost on the woman in the booth, nor on the surrounding crowd of shoppers and salespeople. When she emerged from the booth the lady asked my wife if she would like to hold "him". Of course my wife was delighted, and held the little fluffy powder puff close to her heart. She then held him up, looked at him, and with her head against his said in her almost baby talk, "You were supposed to be a girl, but you're a boy!"

My wife, realizing that the woman was considering buying the pup turned to her and said, "Oh, I'm sorry. Are you going to buy him?" The lady, who obviously could tell love at first sight when she saw it said, "Well, he is going to be bigger than I would like. I have two females at home, and wanted a male to breed with them, but they are small, and he will be a little too big. Besides, you deserve him." With that, the lady turned to the sales person who still had the contract in his hand and said, "I don't think I want to buy him after all."

To the sales person's credit, he said with a smile that it was no problem, and left to re-file the empty contract. After he left, the lady whispered to us that they offered her the dog for $1000.00, but that we could probably get them down to $800.00 or $900.00.

$1000.00? For a dog? I was mortified!

I was also sold.

I just couldn't help it. Here was this cuddly little dog living in what is basically a wooden box with one plexi-glass wall, and shredded, urine soaked newspaper on the floor. More than that, my wife kept looking at me with her big brown eyes… ah to the hell with it, "How much is he?" I asked when the sales person returned. "Well," he started, "how about we go in the booth and you guys can get some time alone with him."

It was over before it started, and I knew it. I think the sales guy did too. He was just a kid, but he knew a sucker when he saw one. He held out on telling me the price. He let my wife sit with that dog in the booth for a long time, making sure she bonded with him more and more. He went on and on about what a great breed the Maltese is; how friendly, fun loving, easy to care for, and quiet they are. He said the store's owner only buys from reputable breeders, and that all the puppies were guaranteed for three weeks, and how if he were to ever die, we could get a twenty percent discount on a new dog. My wife asked questions; how big would he get, is he sick, is he house trained, how do you house train him, etc.

All this was superfluous. I knew the real questions, and I wanted answers. So, again, I asked, "How much is he?" "$1100.00" came the reply.

This kid was smarter than I thought. He sat there all friendly and helpful, lulling me into a trusting relationship with him, selling me and my wife on the idea of a wonderful life with this little dog, and then socks it to me with an inflated price $100.00 more than it had been just fifteen minutes ago.

"$800.00." I said. "The owner won't let him go for less than $1000.00." the stone faced kid replied. "Alright, $900.00" I said, knowing the kid could never out deal me and my years of negotiating skills. "Looking at my wife and the dog, who were both looking at me by this point, the kid said, "Mmmm… $1000.00 is the lowest we can go."

Bastard.

More of those winged bags of money flew out of my mind's window as I agreed to the little privateer's conditions. I paid him for the dog and a small kennel to transport him in. We were given a small amount of some supplement to give him because he had "kennel cough", and there was a slight danger he might not want to eat.

I have never seen my wife happier, or more at peace than just after we bought him. She carried him through the mall, and held him on her lap all the way home. I was convinced that regardless of the money, getting that little dog was the right thing. I am glad I did, and still do think it was the right thing to do. I can't imagine life without him now. My wife named him Angel, and he is aptly named.

As of today Angel has been with us for four years. It's apparent that he may not be a true, full-blood Maltese; he weighs in at around twenty pounds, has wavy hair, and is hardly the "quiet breed" the sales-kid inferred, but he's our little boy and we love him to death. Our little man, my little papa, Angel.

Be sure to check out the Carnival of the Dogs at Mickey's Musings, and the Friday Ark at The Modulator for more interesting animals.

Posted by Jeff at December 29, 2005 8:52 AM