Puppy Diapers?

"I have a sentimental weakness for my children and I spoil them, as you can see."

- Don Vito to Sollozzo, referring to Sonny

After we met Vito, Christina decided we needed a trip to the pet store – for a few necessities. He wasn’t due home for a week, but I liked that she planned ahead. Besides, it would be fun. She and I could bond over puppy chow and maybe a cute collar. I assumed we’d hit the modest pet store down the road, but she had bigger ideas. The place she picked had its own zip code.

As we were sucked through the sliding doors of the Petropolis, tropical fish in Caribbean blue tanks seemed to welcome and calm us. It was a ruse. As I look back, I believe a diabolical microorganism lived among the fishes. Its sole purpose was to enter unsuspecting humans and excite the purchasing-centers of our brains. To survive it needed fresh meat, namely Christina and me.

Immediately, Christina asked if we could buy a fish. It appeared that since she was younger, the drug worked faster on her brain. I was old enough to call upon learned behavior, so I was able to say no, though after that I developed a twitch.

We were so hopped up that we zigzagged between the aisles. First we stopped at pet toothbrushes; then doggie sweaters; next puppy diapers.

Into our cart we threw a leash that could hold a 110-pound dog, though Vito didn’t weigh 110 ounces. To it we added a Pee Post with advanced “Go Here” pheromones. We picked up Poop Patrol bags and an ergonomically designed training clicker. We bought a case of puppy food that will last a year and a half.

After I clawed through the discount bin and grabbed an absorbent baby blue microfiber towel and mitt, I realized I had lost Christina. I found her at the dog-tag kiosk where she feverishly punched letters and numbers to create a laser-engraved pewter identification tag for Vito.

As we waited in the checkout line, I tossed in a set of five puppy-training magazines -- prepackaged.

Because Brian might read this, I won’t say the exact amount we spent, though it is roughly $75 more than my monthly car payment.

We hauled the bags into the trunk and buckled ourselves up. By now, we had nearly detoxed from that bad microorganism in the fish area that made us buy too many things.

“We spent a lot of money in there,” said Christina. “Maybe we should take some of it back.”

“We did buy a lot of stuff,” I said. “ But I’m okay with it.”

It was worth it.

Just like Luca Brasi in The Godfather: Buyer’s Remorse sleeps back with those fishes.