A Sparky post

I came home today in a foul mood. Between the COVID, the cold, the darkness settling early, the demands of the job, the myriad papers to deal with regarding this and that, I just wanted to curl up and kill everyone. A little depression. It happens.

Sparky came home a bit later and asked to be picked up. I held him for a while and it felt good. Eventually, as all good things must, it came to an end and I had to hand him off to do something less important. He was OK with that. He always is, good sport that Sparky.

Once I was done, I saw him give me the eye. He moved towards me, and I, to him. He saw my willingness to engage and he moved towards the living room and Captain James Tiberius Kirk. A few years ago, under circumstances which I neither care to divulge nor remember, we found ourselves owners of a poorly rendered Kirk stuffed toy. For a while, I propped it up over the in-wall air conditioner claiming "it just materialized there one day." Eventually, for lack of a more suitable alternative, Sparky decided to give it a taste. And it stuck. Now, many chomps later, Kirk has been the go-to toy for both Sparky and Princess, providing minutes of joy as they fight over him, rip him to shreds and do all the things that the aliens in the alpha quadrant failed to do to him, and all the females in the beta quadrant succeeded at.

But I digress.

Sparly leapt at the doll and grabbed it with what's left of his teeth. He had one removed because he wanted to prove that the tooth fairy was a dog, or because it was infected. I forget which. He growled. He thrashed. He did his best imitation of a dog with all of its teeth, growling and thrashing. He made it clear, through a series of grunts and growls that I was to fight his for this toy and make sure that he won. He mumbled something about Wookies ripping arms off so I decided to let him win.

That lasted for half an hour. I crawled on the floor. I wrestled with him. I even, dar I say it, tussled with him. Yes, tussling was known to have occurred! There was some scrapping and egos were bruised. Any time I walked away, reassuring him that he had successfully defended his owenership of said doll, he growled, insisting that I return to challenge him and, no doubt, lose yet again. So I did. I crawled, I growled, I grabbed. I put my fingers in mortal danger, my toes at eternal risk. I went there, oh yes, I did. There was a place to where I went! Going there was an option I exercised on more than one occasion. Dagnabit and such.

In fact, I could not leave the room without his whining and bellyaching about how I was leaving him alone, game unresolved. "Unresolved?" I queried. "You bit my hand and threatened the well being of my nose -- I concede! Kirk is your bee-atch! I shan't challenge you any further!" He was unfzed. No fazing was had by him. Fazeless he remained as he growled and whined and insisted that I appraoch, for he had mastered Kirk and who was I to breathe his air when he had attained those lofty heights and even worse, who was I to reject the challenge? So I assumed my position, facing the impossible headlong and continued the siege. I fought him, tooth and follicle. He threatened and I cowered hoping that each parry would be the last. Always disappointed.

Then Julie walked in with a bowl of beans. I repeat "beans." I just want to make that clear. We're talking beans. Frijoles Negros. Sparky went over to the sofa and inquired, regarding said beans. Julie offered them and Sparky jumped up, onto the sofa to indulge. I waited. Eventually, I growled. "I have your Kirk," I yelled. "This is your toy, your object of growlage" I insisted.

Sparky looked at me. He did not move.

"What the hell are you doing?" He said calmly. "I'm eating some goddam beans. Would you grow up?"