By Staff
Leada DeVaney, Editor
Late last December, Greg went Christmas shopping in Huntsville. He wondered into the men's fragrance department of Parisians, probably looking more for himself than for anyone else.
As he tells it, he was shopping around when he was approached by a salesperson pushing a new cologne: Mambo. As it was late in the day and even later in December, the saleperson made him a deal. If he would buy one boxed set of Mambo, she would give him two more. Each box had some cologne, lotion and some sort of scented soap.
So, $50 later, he had some new cologne as well as two gift boxes.
There was just one problem. Neither Greg nor I particularly cared for Mambo. It wasn't that it smelled bad – it was just that it smelled different and that wasn't something either of us wanted.
This meant we had three boxes of the stuff and had to find something to do with it.
We gave the first box to a cousin of mine, making it the second set of cologne he received last Christmas.
"People must be trying to tell me something," he grumbled as he found a spot to stash the Mambo beneath the piles of new socks and underwear he had also received.
The other box made it to some other relative, probably one of those distant ones that, while it is very important to have them something under the tree, the actual quality of the present is less so critical.
The third box just sat at Greg's house, waiting for its new home.
Fast forward to Sunday. For the last two weeks, I have been keeping Greg's son Derek's two small dogs. They are Malta-poos, combinations of Maltese and poodles.
They had been bathed the night before I got them but not dried completely, so they still maintained the unique odor of wet dog. I rebathed them in the sink and used the dryer to get that fresh scent again.
The deal was I would keep them during the week and Greg and Derek would keep them during the weekend. And that's what we've done.
We all went to dinner Sunday – me, Greg and Derek – but without the dogs, of course.
"We took the dogs outside and played today," Derek said.
"They will probably need a bath tonight," I said.
"No," Greg replied. "They won't. I, uh, cleaned them up."
When we went to pick up the dogs, I picked one up and that's when it hit me: the unmistakable scent of Mambo. Greg had found a four-legged use for the old cologne.
"So," Greg said with a laugh, "What do you think?"
"I think they smell like Parisians' men's department," I replied.
So there you have it: the cologne that no one wanted is being used on the dogs. At least it didn't go to waste.