Sparky vs. The Feathered Menace

So I ran into The Krog yesterday to pick up some necessities. When I go grocery shopping one thing is a constant – I never make the right choice for carrying everything I buy. If I take nothing I inevitably need a basket. If I choose a basket I should’ve taken a shopping cart. Because of this I’m constantly overloading and dropping stuff on the floor, much to the consternation of Kroger employees. Today I chose a basket and it was so full I dropped a 2-liter bottle of pop, twice. I’d filled the basket to the brim so I had the pop under my arm, hence the droppage. After that I dropped a big bottle of Listerine and in the process scared the bejesus out of an old woman in front of me. Bottom line, I always underestimate what I’m about to buy.

On a related note, because I refuse to make more than one trip from Jeep to house I’m pretty sure I’m the world record holder for amount of grocery bags carried at one time. My personal best is 15, so beat that suckers.

But on to the point of this blog. Like I said, I grabbed some necessities and when I brought them back to the Jeep Sparky was unusually interested in the grocery bags. He was sniffing and whimpering like a live chicken was in one of the bags or something. While he was a little over the top, I just assumed he was smelling his beloved Cheesehead Lite All-Natural String Cheese*, a noted Spark favorite.

*Sparky’s on a diet but doesn’t know it. Keep that between us.

This behavior continued when I got home, to the point of becoming annoying. He was doing his famous Sparky dance, hopping on his hind legs while waving his front paws at me like a lunatic. It was when I put the grocery bags on the floor that everything became clear. Spark reached in and grabbed his target with the speed of a mongoose, making off with it and running into the bedroom.

Was it the cheese? The lunch meat? Hell nah. It was a menacing, life-threatening item I’d purchased in the cleaning aisle. It was a dreaded, evil feather duster.

Spark had snatched the offending beast in his jaws and carried it to the bedroom in the blink of an eye, attacking it with a vengeance heretofore only seen when a fat kid consumed a carnival corn dog.

After a short battle I wrestled the monster away from him and tucked it safely in a closet, only to watch Spark paw at the bottom of the door until I lured him away with a cheese doodle.

What can I say? It had to be the feathers. Sparky’s hatred for feathered-creatures has been well-documented, and perhaps he detected the scent of a peacock or something.

Yep, somewhere in Sparky’s past he must have had a historic confrontation with some pterodactyl-like beast, or perhaps a canary.

But man, does Sparky hate anything with wings or feathers.

Note: Yes, I bought a feather duster. Deal with it.