It is really one of those jobs (running a pet shop I’m talking about)
Long before Michael Palin and John Cleese’s conversation about the Norwegian Blue, there have been jokes surrounding pet emporiums for generations.
“Can I have a wasp please”
“We don’t sell wasps”
“There was one in your window yesterday”
“I’ll pay you the same for that budgie as I paid for my Christmas Turkey”
“OK – you’re on. How much did you pay?”
“12/6 a pound – weigh it!”
I’ve written before about some of the weird and wonderful real life requests we get.
Yesterday, my assistant Chris took a telephone call
Caller – I wonder if you can help me? When I use my bong my goldfish starts talking to me
Chris – What does it say?
Caller – Lots of stuff. It predicts the results of the football and racing!
Chris – It would seem like a good idea to get down to the bookies.
Caller – Seriously, the fish talks. How much do you think it could be worth?
Chris – I think you’d have to sell the bong and the fish as a package.
And so on. Chris still isn’t sure if the call was a wind up because at the coal face of retailing furry and feathered animals, anything is possible. Some of the questions are brilliant.
“Why is that fish black?”
“Do you think my dog would like these biscuits?”
“My hamster died – is that normal?”
“I’m keeping a house spider as a pet. What would I feed it on?”
“How much are your turtletoises?”
“Are Netherland Dwarf Rabbits smaller than ordinary rabbits?
“What is the difference between the two tier and three tier hamster cages?”
“Is that a ghost snake because it’s invisible?”
“Do you have a brush for my pussy?”
It’s all in a day’s work for purveyors of poop scoops.