Of Mice and Men encounter. →[More:]
So I went for a walk yesterday, late in the day when the heat had subsided, and at the end of my route, before I turn for home, there's a shopping plaza with a small pet store. No kittens or puppies, but fish and lizards and birds and bunnies (OMG!). Cute little albino frogs swimming in their tank. And, it's air conditioned, so a welcome respite on a sweltering day.
So I'm standing in the back watching the birds; there were a lot of birds, in cages in a small glass room of their own, behind glass doors. Chatty parakeets, love birds, bright red and orange and yellow parrots. Grooming and climbing and tongueing sunflower seeds. My reverie didn't last long. A large, heavy-set man with tossled brown hair and a button-down shirt appeared next to me. "Can I help you?" he asked. His eyes were somewhat crossed and his speach slurred. I was put-off. I shouldn't have been; he was harmless, I'm sure. But he took me by surprise. "Just looking," I said.
I thought he'd go away after that and leave me to enjoy the birds a little longer, but he just stood there. He was really big, over six feet with a mountainous build, though not fat exactly, and a boy's face. "See what I've got in my pocket," he asked. It was then that I noticed the small grey mouse in his shirt pocket. I smiled and nodded. I've been flashed before, and I was relieved it was only his shirt pocket he indicated. "See what he's doing?" he added. I didn't answer. I was giving him my that's nice, raised eyebrow, go away now smile nod. He was unphased. "He's nibbling my pocket," he said, delighted by the antics of said mouse.
It was a sweet encounter, really. But I was uncomfortable and left, making my way through the narrow aisles of collars, chew toys, and treats. For any hasty creeped-out feelings, I blame Steinbeck.