It was a Saturday afternoon I sauntered along 118 Avenue viewing all the relics in the windows of the second-hand shops when I noticed a Garage Sale sign hanging on one. I followed the address until I came to a worn out double garage with a side door that held a welcoming sign above it. Inside people bustled around a room filled with rows of nicely covered decorative tables and lilac incense permeating the air creating a wonderful ambiance.
I ambled my way down an aisle and came across a table filled with ornamental bottles of perfume, so I sprayed a sample on my wrist and neck enjoying its exotic luring scent, but I was puzzled by the name on the bottle which insulted me as it read Dignity Dog on its label. I became indignant that such a lovely smelling lady’s perfume would be called Dignity Dog. I overcame my feeling of injustice, and knew I had to have a bottle anyway, so I took two of them.
I carried my treasures to the fellow in charge, who smiled at me and asked, “What kind of dog do you have? I looked at him surprised and said, “I don’t have a dog, why do you ask?” Nonchalantly, he replied, “Oh, I’m just wondering why you’re buying these two bottles of doggy grooming formula, if you don’t have a dog”
Suddenly embarrassed, I realized my mistake thinking I was purchasing women’s perfume. People roared with laughter, easing my tension. My embarrassment subsided and the sale went to the dogs.