It was a purchase that only occurred because I cleaned out the junk drawer.

No, not because I was rewarding myself for the spiffing — though, now that I think on it, that does merit some type of remuneration.

It was because I found the $50 Amazon gift card in the midst of the purge, a shiny little find that made me realize that the purchase was meant to be.

So I traipsed — oh yes, I did traipse — to the dining room and hopped — oh yes, I did hop — online. And there I spent the next 45 minutes reading reviews on doggie car seats, two of which I subsequently bought.

So. I’m ridiculous. I’m excessive and obsessive both. Please know that I know this. However — and it’s kind of a wonderful feeling — I don’t really care.

It all started because Tilly and Fitz are taking private lessons at Praise 4 Paws Obedience School. We go every Friday and every Friday, I have to wrestle them in their crates and shove them in my back seat. It’s a tight squeeze, and usually results in a lot of unnerving jostling for them — “She could be a bit gentler,” Tilly whispered to Fitz last week in a scornful British accent — as I try to get them situated.

I knew there was a relatively easy fix. Our friends Sean and Hannah likewise have Bostons and, on their last visit up from Knoxville, I noticed they had dog seats for Pepper and Robbie. The dogs deftly jumped up on them, and then Hannah attached their harnesses to a connector strap on the seat. Because the seats sit high, the dogs had a good view out the window. They could also just relax in what is otherwise a plush little bed. And if there was a crash, the seats would at least prevent them from sailing through the window.

The minute I saw those seats, I severely wanted a set of them. However, at the time, I could not rationalize the purchase. The introduction of puppy school into our lives helped. The Amazon gift card clinched the deal.

As I researched dog seats, I was both shocked and not shocked to discover these little puppies are pricy. Shocked because, no matter what you’re buying, you hope it’s magically cheap. Not shocked because this was likely the most bourgeois purchase one could make.

Finally, I settled on the Snoozer Lookout car seats, the exact kind Hannah has, which are black and diamond tufted on the outside and filled with what looks like sheep’s wool on the inside.

I waited anxiously for them to come and, upon arrival, I promptly strapped them in my back seat.

It was, I decided, time to do a test run with the doggies.

Unlike Pepper and Robbie, Tilly and Fitz did not jauntily jump up in their seats and sit down like royalty. Instead, it took some convincing this was a good idea. I saw them exchange a few uneasy glances and heard Tilly whisper, “Oh dear brother, what is she doing to us now?”

But once we were on the highway, they relaxed and Fitz even settled in for a snooze.

Since, I’ve caught a few people looking in my car as I head out of the grocery store. I’ve had a few friends tell me they’ve passed me on the road and had a good laugh when they saw Boston Terrier heads looking at them from out the window.

And so ends another riveting tale involving Tilly and Fitz. Happily, this one even ends with a moral: Clean out your junk drawer on a regular basis. And spend your treasure on something outrageous.