As this episode played out, pet shop owner Deb Moyle barely blinked. After all, she witnesses scenes like these on a daily basis. As a marketplace for dozens of cute little creatures, her store serves as the setting for more touching love scenes than the average Meg Ryan film.

Fellow proprietors in the business know just what it's like.

"Everybody has to go see the puppies," said Connie Bailey, owner of Scales & Tails in the Nittany Mall. "They're our most popular."

The shop's bestseller is the Jack Russell, she said. That's not an author, of course, it's a small canine breed.

"Like the dog on Frasier," she said to clarify.

Labradors are another favorite pick, she said. Shoppers frequently fall prey to literal sets of puppy-dog eyes.

Those patrons who successfully pull themselves away from the puppy section find her store offers other diversions as well.

"Our customers love to play with the hamsters," Bailey said. "We have them out so that they'll learn to be handled and won't bite. People put their hand in, and it'll crawl right up their arm. They like that."

Of course, ogling is one thing. Buying can be quite another. After all, shoppers rarely congregate around the fish tanks to idle and coo for hours — yet ultimately that's where the big money is in this business.

"The majority of our sales come from fish," said Melissa Seng, salesclerk for the Wild Side Pet Shop, 248 W. Hamilton Ave., which sells schools of goldfish, guppies, betas and angelfish with class sizes in the thousands per year.

Neons and piranhas also sell like hotcakes, Moyle said.

Moyle recommends fish to students with a fear of enormous commitment.

"Fish are low maintenance," she said. "You generally don't have to worry when you go away, 'Who's going to take care of my fish?' Just put them in with a feeder, and they're usually fine."

Unlike cats and dogs, whose vet bills and food can easily run into the hundreds, especially during their first year, fish are much less likely to drain your pocket — unless that pocket is unbelievably shallow.

Food and chlorination for a typical bowl fish costs less than $5 per month, Moyle said, while a tankful costs between $5 and $10.

The primary concerns for dutiful masters are feeding, once or twice a day, and cleaning, once or twice a week.

"The big thing is overfeeding," Moyle said. "All you want to feed them is what they can eat in about five minutes. If they look hungry, try out another meal. Play around a little until you've got a schedule that works."

It's a simple yet satisfying process, said Brian Perez (senior-hotel and restaurant management), whose roommates decided to take the plunge and assume the responsibility for a second tank recently.

"They're pretty cool," he said. "They don't make a mess."

A well-kept fish can provide one to five years of loyal service.

Naturally, lifespan is an important consideration for shoppers touring the pet store with a mind to buy.

"Students have to remember that owning a pet is a lifetime commitment," Moyle said. "They often forget how long things live."

Large dogs like Great Danes and Irish Wolfhounds usually live for about six years, while small dogs tend to live longer, with poodles often living up to 30 years, said veterinary assistant Allison Brown of State College Veterinary State Hospital, 1700 W. College Ave.

Cats generally live about 20 years, she said, while ferrets and rabbits provide six to 12 years of companionship.

And while the burliest hamsters put out five years, students may actually precede their turtles and parrots in death — as these varieties often live long enough to rightfully qualify for tribute by Willard Scott as centenarians.

Indeed, cats, dogs, fish and birds aren't the only options out there.

"We have lots of lizards and snakes. I even have a hedgehog right here," Seng said. "And if we don't have it, we can usually order it."

Somebody even requested a skunk recently, she said.

One can only hope the student and Pepe Le Pew live in a hole alone somewhere.

"Students ought to check with their roommates to see whether they're allergic first," Moyle said. "That happens a lot actually. We get a lot of returns."

In fact, every now and then, Moyle feels like changing the name of her establishment to Rent-a-Pet to match sales. A lot of pets come pattering right back in when students find their leases forbid pets.

Students do their best to cope with restrictions.

"I have plants," said Lisa Mitchell (junior-marketing). "I have Phil the philodendron.

"And my roommate has a beta named Norm. He's very easy, very low maintenance. He's just kind of in the bowl."

Ironically enough, while Norm is a Siamese fighting fish, Mitchell and her roommates do the majority of the brawling.

"We fight over who feeds him," she said.

Phil and Norm represent the extent of Mitchell's pet-owning privileges.

"We're not allowed to get a dog," Mitchell said. "We would if we could, but we can't."

So they won't.

It's a common whimper since few realtors and none of the dorms allow furry friends.

"I want a pet, but University Commons doesn't allow it," said Ryan Knisley (junior-telecommunications). "I really miss pets big time. My friend and I thought about buying $50 Labradors one week, but my roommate was out of town, and he's not a huge fan."

In the end, Knisley declined the purchase that weekend out of common courtesy.

"I would if I ever get a place of my own," he said. "When you're down, they'll cheer you up. They always just look happy, with that stupid smile on their face. They put you in a better state of mind and a better mood."

Other students believe stupid smiles are overrated.

"They're too much responsibility," said Winfield Turpin (senior-philosophy). "They (pets) smell, and they get all over your stuff."

Turpin spent one too many days toting the pooper-scooper back home.

"I had a cat and a dog, and they would always have lots of kids, which meant more work," Turpin said.