It happened like this:

Day 1 – Saturday October 28 - I received a phone call from someone wanting to sell me a one-off pup; normally I don't buy them as they take up a whole window and I would prefer to buy entire litters. Strike one.

The person explained that they had purchased the pup from a pet shop in Sydney, but were unable to keep it, as the wife is pregnant and couldn't manage the pregnancy and the puppy. As it had come from another pet shop and was 10 weeks old, that was strike two.

It was a Poodle/Maltese, no doubt having come from a puppy farmer, and that was strike three.

Despite having three strikes against it, and considering the price was more than I would have normally paid, for the life of me, I have no idea why I told him to bring it in so I could have a look at it.

The puppy came in; it was very cute, jet black, and for some inexplicable reason, I decided to purchase it for resale. It went into the window and after an hour or so, as I felt sorry for it, we took it out of the window to let it run around the shopfloor, something we normally never do, for fear of spreading disease, and puppies running around the shop can cause mayhem.

It was having a wonderful time, but the front doors were open, and although we were at the back of the shop, it started making a beeline for the front door, and the very busy, main street beyond. I ran after the puppy, jumped over it, came down heavily, and thought I had broken something in my foot.

Not impressed! My foot was in agony and I took myself off to hospital for an x-ray. Nothing was broken, but I did have a bad sprain.

Day 2 – Sunday - I hobble into the shop and at the counter is a couple; the husband is holding a very large, magnificent looking pure Maltese and the wife is holding the puppy, who will be a companion for the Maltese. You beauty; a quick profit! I knew it was a smart move buying that pup.

Day 3 – Monday - At nine o'clock when we open, the lady who bought the puppy walks in, wanting to return it. Apparently her dog, which is not desexed was continually trying to hump the puppy, and she was concerned that the puppy was going to get hurt. As she had originally come into the shop to buy a pair of high-quality clippers, she was happy to receive store credit, so at least I didn't lose the profit, but the pup went back into the window. Still, it looks like buying that pup may have been a good move.

Days 4 - 8 - Normally a cute pup such as this would sell very quickly, and over the next few days, we had it in and out of the window on numerous occasions, but for some strange reason, it just did not sell. Maybe buying that pup was not such a smart move after all.

I'm normally immune to the charm of puppies, having sold thousands of them over the last 15 years, but there was something about this little girl that caught my eye and was getting under my skin. It was like a bad itch that won't go away. That is despite the fact that I don't like small Poodles, I intensely dislike Maltese, I am not particularly fond of small dogs, preferring large dogs like my Golden Retriever and Newfoundland.

Saturday is normally a big puppy day, and as I had the day off expected to come in on Sunday and find it was sold.

Day 9 – Sunday – I get to work and that damn pup is still there; it hasn't sold! So despite having almost broken my foot on it, prior to opening up the shop, whilst the door was closed, I let the puppy run around the shop and have a little bit of freedom. She really is cute. I told her that I would make a deal with her; she had to sell herself today and in return, she could run around the shop for the rest of the day, provided she didn't bolt out the front door, and that she would to try and woo people with her charms. She tried hard to live up to her end of the bargain, everyone that came in commented on what a gorgeous puppy she was, and she was reasonably well behaved, and only bolted out the front door a couple of times, but we were all on the lookout for that and stopped her before she could get anywhere near the road. By three o'clock there were no takers, and I had decided that if it was meant to be, and she had not sold by the end of the day, we would be the new shop dog, and she could come home with me.

At 3.15, a phone call. “Have you still got be Moodle? I've always wanted a Maltese/Poodle and will be in before you close.” Phew - it looks like am going to be saved. At 3.50, ten minutes before we close, the potential customer walked in and was a oohing and arring over the puppy; drooling worse than my Newfoundland she was!  This is looking good, I not going to have to take this puppy home after all -- that was until she told me she had to get the landlord's permission before she could get a puppy. Clunk!

After closing the shop, I walked out with a pup under one arm, and a bag containing dog food and a few toys under the other. Some things are just meant to be! So now, Sherry joins (in order of age from youngest to oldest) Ratbag Port (Ragdoll), Cranky Muscat (Himalayan), Tokay (Ragdoll), Red (Golden Retriever), Goofy (Newfoundland), and Sam (the old, obnoxious Poodle {tautology}).

Goofy, Red and Ratbag Port - part of the happy family

Cranky Muscat and Tokay - what's that?  We don't like the look of it!