Where Are You, Scooby Do?

Yesterday was a yucky rainy day so I asked Charlie, "What do you want to do today?" This was obviously a mistake.
"I want to get Scooby Doo for a pet," he replied.
"You mean a stuffed Scooby Doo?" I tried.
"No, I want to go to the pet store and get a pet Scooby Doo."
"Honey," I tried, "Scooby Doo is pretend. There's no such thing as a real Scooby Doo."
"But Mommy, please can I get a Scooby Doo?" Charlie insisted, "He would be my best friend!"
I tried again: "Honey, if there was such a thing as a talking dog who ate sandwhiches I would get him for you in a heartbeat, but there isn't!"
"Can we go to the pet store?"
Well, it *was* raining out, and I'm never opposed to a trip to the mall.
"We can go to the pet store but there's not going to be a Scooby Doo there," I told him.
Charlie was still not dissuaded. "Can I ask the pet store lady if there is a Scooby Doo dog and if she says yes can I bring him home?"
I sighed. "Sure, but there's not going to be one."
At the pet store Charlie looked forlornely at the beagles and chihuahas. "Where's Scooby?"