I went to the pet store tonight. I arrived tired. I had been in the car commuting for over an hour – arrived at the front door of my home – saw the note I forgot on the front counter that said “DO NOT FORGET TO BUY DOG FOOD”. Back in the car and out to Petsmart with me.
I get to the store and there is some sort of border collie training seminar. <blink> Aren’t they trained at birth? Maybe they were training the owners. Someone should have told the owners. That was curious.
Before I find my favorite 45 lb bag of ‘large breed weight management’ food, I usually swing by the small animals wing. I like to see the dwarf gerbils and say “awwwww loook at yooouuuuu” while kneeling and clutching my hands beneath my chin.
Well all the cute gerbils must still be out in the wild <cough> cause the cages were empty. Trying not to over-think that. While I was pondering the gerbils fate I felt the heat of a hard stare on my left cheek. There was a bird staring at me. Stupid bird…didn’t he know I dislike (and awkwardly fear) birds? But it was like he had a message for me. Like we had met in a previous life. I stepped over to the giant bird cage at the end of the ‘small pets’ peninsula. He was all alone. Maybe he was crazy. He seemed a little crazy – with that eye thing he was doing – that was crazy. And then this odd woman who was employed by Petsmart came by and saw me doing an old west stare down with the bird and asked me if I wanted to hold him. Well that sounded dangerous. I think I woke up right then – first time that day (at 7:20pm) and I was like “well all-right…let’s meet the weird bird”. Screw dog food.
The woman brought out the little blue green creature with the facial tick …and there we stayed …for TEN MINUTES. The woman went in to change a bulb or clean out dead gerbils or something – and like she never came back. So Harry and I... yeah, I named him Harry – we just hung out. He walked back and forth on my index finger about 4 thousand times. We did some head bobs. Gave each other comical “stink eyes”. The border collie handlers were not impressed. Their hell was coming – nothing I needed to do to them that their genius companions wouldn’t do once they got the lay of the land.
The weird bird lady came back from smoking her J out back and smilingly offered out her index finger. Harry gave me one last romantic look and betrayed me.
At the register, I asked the clerk how long those birds live. Her answer - 25 to 30 years….