I was doing my part to save the prairie dog, spreading my peanuts around like birdseed, when I noticed one sitting in his hole. He looked directly at me, but didn’t approach like the others to get a peanut. I immediately named him Lloyd. Again I’m not sure why, except that I didn’t know anyone named Lloyd, so the name was available.
Lloyd was obviously the veteran of the group. One ear was notched, and the bare spot on his head didn’t look like male pattern baldness. He was maybe twenty feet from me, a long toss for a peanut. Nevertheless, I made the attempt and the peanut landed about a foot away, a decent throw I thought. But Lloyd was not impressed and didn’t budge from his hole. Another prairie dog ran over and quickly nabbed Lloyd’s peanut.
I tried again, landing the next peanut maybe six inches from the hole. Again Lloyd didn’t stir. Again another prairie dog robbed Lloyd of his rightful due.
I lobbed another, not as close. By this time, the other prairie dogs were beginning to get the idea and were clustering around Lloyd waiting for offerings.
I held the next peanut in my hand as though it were a tiny basketball. I was once a pretty fair basketball player. After I gave up my opera career, I considered turning pro, limited only by the fact that I was short, slow, and couldn’t jump. I could shoot though.
I lifted my hands over my head and tried my jump shot, which is different from most jump shots in that my feet never leave the ground. The peanut rose about fifteen feet in the air, descended gracefully, and hit Lloyd smack on the head. Then it bounced a few inches outside the rim of the hole.
If someone hit me on the head with a peanut, I would react. Lloyd never flinched. He simply glared at me as though I were crazy. But I noticed that none of the other prairie dogs moved in to get this peanut.
Lloyd knew what he wanted, and what he didn’t. Clearly he didn’t want my peanuts.
I began to wonder whether it was everyone’s peanuts, or just my peanuts he didn’t crave. Maybe he was on duty, like the guards at Buckingham Palace or the castle of the Wicked Witch of the West. Maybe he just didn’t want me to see him eat the peanut, wouldn’t give me the satisfaction. Maybe he was too proud for peanuts, remembering the old days when his father took him hunting for Really Tall Weeds like his father before him and his father before him.
It’s a mystery.
But if someone doesn’t want your peanuts, don’t drive yourself nuts wondering why. No sense breaking your heart over peanuts.
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