I emailed that I wanted a female golden retriever. You sent adorable pics, but your puppies’ coats were too ivory for my color palette.
Cream dogs matter, but I need one to blend in with our flooring which is the color of fried chicken. I hated to say no to your fluffy, mashed potato hued pups, but I want a golden retriever not a cream retriever.
After I told you why I wasn’t interested in your litter, you suddenly sent another picture of one with the preferred KFC coat. I wondered why you didn’t reveal her in the first place, but I dismissed the question as my heart swelled. What a gorgeous photoshoot; she looked perfect, like a model! I couldn’t believe you were willing to give her up for $400, a discount for a purebred.
It would cost just $100 more to ship her all the way to Pennsylvania from California. You told me I could get her tonight, on my daughter’s fifteenth birthday. What a great surprise that would be. My dog heart leapt and my imagination excitedly chased its tail. I imagined Miss Puppy-Love popping out of a box with a pink bow and saying, “Happy birthday!” like Frosty the Snowman did with that hat.
Back to reality. You explained how our puppy would fly on a private jet to our nearest airport and then complete her journey to my house in a van. She would show up potty trained, healthy, and grateful to be a part of my family. I could buy love for half a grand. What a bargain!
I started to think of names to reflect her birthplace: Cali, Hollywood, Peaches, or Sunny could work. Or we could be original and call her Fried Chicken or Phyllis. The possibilities for this little furball seemed endless.
I admitted I recently contacted so many breeders that I couldn’t remember your website. You reminded me you didn’t have one to offer per se, and shared your contact on a puppy finder site. You revealed that you are a part-time breeder and wanted to keep all five puppies in your litter. Since you got a new job, you realized you couldn’t. That’s why your goldens were eleven weeks old instead of the ideal eight. I figured that contributed to the cheaper price.
Geneous seller, I had some more questions and asked you to call me. I was tired of texting, although I thought it wise to have a record of our conversation in writing. I certainly didn’t want to get duped.
After a five minute pause in our texts, my ringtone went off. I didn’t think it was you because the Caller ID indicated the call was from Darlington, Maryland. I was also surprised by your masculine, foreign voice. Your email name is Jenny Morgan. You had to convince me you were the California seller who had the golden princess and private jet. Suddenly, a red flag went up. Hmm, could this be a hoax?
As sure as dogs and my Canadian friend Doreen love bacon, I can assure you that this was indeed a hoax, a scam, a con.
I caught on during our phone conversation and told you I thought you were lying and trying to pull the puppy fur over my eyes. You reassured me that I could trust you, a god-fearing Christian. Who says that? I hung up and texted a request that you send the dog and THEN I would pay you when I got her, safe and sound. You wouldn’t go for that, “Jenny,” because you have no puppies with fake potty training skills to put on a fake plane in a fake van to join my real family. My final text wished you a blessed day, you god-fearing, con artist! You stink like dog crap!
I plan to report you to the authorities. Give it up. Quit messing with people’s puppy-heart strings. I’m sure you stole the above pics from the internet, so if any readers recognize these as yours, let me know and we’ll work on justice.
If you experience such puppy scams, you can report the shenanigans to the following: