Today I shopped at a local trophy shop to pick up some name tags we had ordered for work.
I love going to this place.
"Why?" you may ask, "do you like visiting a store that's so obviously selling merchandise that doesn't interest you?"
It's because they have a dog. There's a sweet little poodle that greets me at the door whenever I go there.
There's something so warm about a business that has a pet. (Those with allergies would probably disagree.)
Bookstores so often have a resident cat. It changes it from a commercial enterprise to a giant cozy reading room when you see that fuzzy fellow looking down at you from the top of a shelf.
One of my few memories from when I was really little was going to my dad's foundry in the evening when nothing was happening, and there was a big German Shepherd dog wandering around. (Dad just sent an email and said his name was "Lance")
When I was a kid, my brother and I always wanted to go to one certain hardware store, because they had a Macaw. His name was Rascal, and he was a fun bird.
Then there was the time in high school when I actually worked at a pet store. The two favorites there were a green parrot and a white cockatoo that were chained to an open perch in the middle of the store. They were great fun, and SO smart. They learned to open the ages, and, if you weren't careful, would let the small birds out at night when nobody was watching.
Critters ... I'm in favor of critters. (at least the ones that don't have long, naked tails ... mice, gerbils, snakes ... nothing like that!) Fellow came in one day with his pet rat. No thanks. That's not a pet. That's vermin.