I completely forgot to post the follow-up to our snubbing by the Mariners’ Moose a couple weeks ago.
A couple days after I sent my complaint letter, the Mariners’ head of PR and Marketing called our house to personally apologize. He promised to send Ray some make-up gifts.
A couple days after that, a package arrived for Ray containing a signed eight-by-ten of said Moose (pictured at right) along with a few 4-year old baseball cards and some stickers.
Whereas I appreciate the promptness and personal nature of the apology, I can’t help but think that if I had sent my original, un-edited-by-Amy letter — the one with the references to the tears streaming down Ray’s frost-bitten face and his repeated sobs of “Where Moose?” all the way home — that we’d have scored some free tickets.
As a corollary, Ray became quite enamored of the stuffed Moose we bought him as consolation, and started referring to himself as “Moo-sss,” making “moose” the first word in which he ever pronounced the “S.”
