Please Don’t Be Amish!

Amish

In my last post I explained the lengths I went to for adopting a puppy. You can read about it here. After displaying what I thought was the patience of an angel when applying multiple times to adopt a puppy, I said fuck it and went the breeder route. And before anyone decides to lecture me about breeders specifically Amish breeders, I know. We’ve all done things we aren’t proud of or know is wrong. Why do you think people still smoke?

As I said in my last post, I got with a breeder and negotiated him down from $1,000 to $600. He lived 3.5 hours away in rural Indiana. The breeder’s name was one of those cheesy names like Glitzy Canines. To protect their identity, we will go with the breeder name, Glitzy Canines. Just know, it was as cheesy if not worst.

I had the sneaky suspicion that this breeder was Amish for two reasons. In the puppy description, it was noted that absolutely no business would be conducted on Sunday. The last name was also very Amish. What I’ve learned is some Amish breeders have poor standards and have been known to run puppy mills. But with a name like Glitzy Canines, were they really Amish? The dude was super nice on text too.

Being a January Saturday, and Sunday was off the table for puppy pick up, I made the stellar decision to start out at around 12:30 which would mean I would be driving alone in the dark at some point. I didn’t ask my husband to come with me because both of us absolutely hate long road trips and I wasn’t going to make him suffer with me. This was going to absolutely suck but would be absolutely worth it.

About half way through the trip, I sent my husband a text with the address of the puppy address. The second text I sent him was the following: Just in case I’m kidnapped for a human trafficking ring with the Amish. I was obviously kidding but I did want them to know where they could find my remains.

One of the Top Embarrassing Moments of My Life

As the hours passed, civilization became less and less frequent. I wondered if eventually I would be off-roading it. About 20 minutes before my arrival, I decided as a courtesy, I would text the breeder to let them know I was 20 minutes out. I looked down at my phone and did a doubletake, noting the last text I sent him. My heart began to palpitate with the realization that I had sent the following to the breeder:

Amish human trafficking

For the next 20 minutes, I repeated the following steps several times though not in this exact order:

  1. Scream “FUCK, FUCK, FUCK!”
  2. Reason with myself that maybe they weren’t even Amish.
  3. Call supportive friends and family for sympathy.
  4. Contemplate turning the car around or apologizing via text.

Were They Really Amish?

I finally reached their home. It had a large white barn to the left, a modest white house in front of it and 2 well-maintained metal garages on the other side of the home. It was killing me to know if I would be apologizing profusely or laughing with the “English” person. Just then, a little boy with black pants, suspenders and a wide brim hat opened the door from one of the metal garages and ran across my path.

“Fuck me, they’re Amish,” I said under my breath.

‘Welp, let’s do this,’ I thought. ‘Put your big girl pants on Angela and get it over with.’

And with a shake of my head from disbelief of my idiocy, I grabbed my phone and hopped out of my car. Just as I got out, a man came into view holding the reigns of 2 horses with a buggy following in the wake. Yup, definitely Amish.

“Are you Max?” I asked walking towards him. He shook his head no. Just then, an Amish woman in a pale blue dress and white bonnet came out of the same door the little boy had come out of.

“Max is away,” she said with an accent I couldn’t put my finger on. Normally I’m pretty good at guessing accents but this one eluded me.

“Please come in,” she said motioning for me to follow her. Inside what I thought was a garage was a very odd set up. Firstly, it was a very overcast day so lights would have been helpful. Were these the type that didn’t believe in electric? Or had I offended them so greatly, they felt I didn’t deserve for the transaction to take place in a well-lit room?

The space was a large open room that had a kitchenette-like set up to the right. A long table and chairs sat in front of it. A little Amish girl sat on the table cross-legged, holding a pie that she was eating with a fork. Stereotypical I know but I’m just telling you what I saw. Across from the table on the other side of the room was just a random bed in the middle of the room. It was like an Amish studio apartment or the set of a home-grown porn. I didn’t know.

A teen girl was standing in the entryway, holding forms for me to sign. The woman that had ushered me in, began speaking German to her. This always pisses me off when people speak in a different language in front of you. You always wonder what they’re saying about you. Given my indiscretion, my guess is it went something like this:

Woman: “This is the human trafficking lady.”

Teen girl: “Dumb ass. Last time she sends a text before reading.”

Sadly, that will probably NOT be the last time I send a text before reading.

Honestly, the woman didn’t show signs of knowing what I had said and I wasn’t going to ask. I signed the forms and she instructed her son to go grab Oreo (Lulu Vuitton now). He returned just a minute later with the smallest puppy I’ve ever seen in my life. Completely spunky and adorable beyond belief. I fell in love with her! As I write this now, I’m laying down and she is laying on my shoulder as she always does.

Later that night after we all had time to meet Lulu, I sent the following text to Max. Thank God he responded “no worries”.

embarrassing textNow it’s your turn, have you ever accidentally sent a text or email to someone that CLEARLY was not meant for them?

 

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