Today I went to the hardware store.
Not for treats.
Not for toys.
Not even for something I could steal and then pretend I didn’t.
We went for a freezer.
A very serious, adult, back-room freezer.
I was there strictly in a professional capacity.
The aisles were tall.
The floors echoed.
Everything smelled like screws, wood, ambition, and mild confusion.
I trotted along doing my best
“Helpful Supervisor Who Has No Idea What He’s Supervising” walk
when suddenly—
A voice.
Not loud.
Not frantic.
But warm.
“Is that… Harry Manilow?”
Fanilows.
This is my favorite sound in the world.
I turned.
Slowly.
Casually.
Like I didn’t already know.
And there she was.
Sheila.
She smiled at me the way people do when they already know your whole personality before you say a word.
She told me she reads about my adventures.
That I make her day.
That when life gets heavy, my curls and chaos help it feel lighter.
I stood very still.
Very dignified.
Which is how you know it meant everything to me.
Her husband took our picture.
I posed.
Obviously.
Then he said the words every dog deserves to hear at least once in a hardware store:
“That is one good-looking dog.”
I accepted the compliment on behalf of all curls everywhere.
After that, I walked different.
My step had extra bounce.
My curls had extra spring.
My tail swayed like it knew something the rest of the store didn’t.
Because love will do that to you.
Being seen will do that.
Being recognized not for what you sell, but for how you make someone feel — that changes a dog.
So yes.
We left with a freezer.
But I left with something better.
A reminder that sometimes, between bolts and back rooms and very important adult errands, there’s a Fanilow waiting to smile at you and tell you that you matter.
Thank you, Sheila.
You made my day.
With love, extra bounce, and curls secured tighter than a well-set bolt,
Harry Manilow
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