The Grapeful Dead

This morning as they were making their lunch in preparation for going to work, the two leggers inadvertently released Ivan's worst nightmare.

A grape.

I kid you not. The Great and Tolerable Ivan, Slayer of Moth Thingies, Menacer of Ankles, Shredder of Upholstery, Worrier of Mouse Thingies, Muncher of Bottle Caps, Launcher of Air Biscuits and Scourge of the Hallway (between the hours of  3 and 4am with a forty-five minute break at 3:15) is totally spooked by a grape that fell on the floor.

As I said before, the grape in question fell on the floor unnoticed by all but myself, (I see all) while the two leggers were bagging their lunch this morning. It was my intention to wait until the two leggers had left and then relocate it to a more suitable place that allowed for more chaos. (Inside one of the female two legger's boots was a likely spot)

As they departed, Ivan was finishing his breakfast. It takes Ivan longer to eat due to the fact that there is a golf ball in his food bowl. The golf ball was placed there intentionally last year to force him to eat slower. This works amazingly well because between bites, Ivan sits there trying to figure out why that golf ball is in his food bowl. Sometimes, he even talks to the golf ball. Mostly he asks the golf ball "Who are you and why are you in my food bowl?"

The golf ball seldom answers.

So anyway, Ivan finished his breakfast and began his daily kitchen crumb vacuuming. As he approached the fridge thingy, his eye fell upon the stray grape. The sight of the grape startled Ivan so badly that he poofed, crooked his tail and scampered from the room. Amused, I decided to watch from the dining room table to see what Ivan might do next.

I was not disappointed.

A few minutes later I observed Ivan skulking around the edge of the oven. He was in full "stalk mode". I got the distinct feeling that he intended to inflict great bodily harm upon the grape, but was somewhat reluctant to commit himself to a full frontal assault. He continued to slowly approach the fearsome fruit.

Just as he was about to commit to his pounce, Jaq in a fit of Irish folk dance, began "Riverdancing" in the hallway causing Ivan to beat another hasty retreat. Okay, "Riverdancing" may be a bit of an exaggeration, but it did sound a bit like tap-dancing and she was singing "Danny Boy" as she ran down the hall.

The grape seemed unimpressed.

 Once again Ivan began his pseudo-stalk. This time he approached from the dining room. Crawling in a very low crouch, stubby little tail twitching erratically, he approached the bad berry. He began his pre-pounce preparation, wiggling butt, ears flattened, both muscles tensed, all was ready. Like a bow drawn to its limit he quivered with anticipation.

The misguided missile launched!

His ample weight landed squarely upon the grape catching it completely by surprise. It didn't even attempt to defend itself.

Smashing the grape into nothing but pulp and juice, Ivan began to strut away. I immediately jumped down and smacked him. 

He had it coming.

Everyone knows that I don't tolerate wining.