What's In Your Backpack?

One slow evening at work while I was washing some dishes, a fellow came into the store and requested some assistance from my coworker to put together a gift basket for his wife. Eager for something to due Olivia (my coworker, whose name is Olivia, and yes she works at an olive oil store. Ironic? Oh yes.) happily said she could help him pick out some products. As they started going through our best sellers, the customer said that if the present turned out well, he would show her what was in his backpack.

This is where I started listening. This was just a couple of days after a bomb in a backpack interrupted a Martin Luther King, Jr. Day parade. Fortunately the bomb never went off, but it certainly made headlines in Spokane. Anywhoo, bombs, severed body parts, and/or other scariness I peeked around the corner to make sure Olivia was alright and to make sure I could pick the customer out of a lineup if need be.

I quickly finished up my dishes and headed out to the sales floor. The customer seemed jovial enough, and my coworker and I ended up forgetting about that backpack. We helped him pick out jams, oils, and other foodstuffs, and he was ready to buy anything we suggested. I arranged the gift basket (it's one of my many/few talents), and Olivia rung him up. Then he reminded us about the backpack.

He mentioned that he had to be careful, because what was inside was alive. Puppies? Kitties? My eyes were lit up by the possibility of fuzzy little puppies. Then he asked if we were ok with snakes. Many people, like Olivia, are not ok with snakes. She headed for the back. I am ok with non-poisonous reptiles and stuck around to watch him pull out his live animal.

Which was not a reptile. "It's a baby kangaroo!" I squealed like a five-year-old girl, while the customer unwrapped a kangaroo wearing a diaper. Turns out this fellow is not only not a bomber, he runs a farm that raises exotic animals, like kangaroos. This particular fellow was a four-month old wallaroo who is still young enough to be in his mama's pouch or a surrogate's backpack.

Of course Olivia and I were more than excited about this little guy, so naturally when he said we could hold it we were over the moon. We ran for our cameras, and then took turns holding and snapping photos.

It's amazing that guy fit in a backpack!

The following Saturday our new favorite customer was back with his wife who also had a joey in her backpack, but he was much smaller. He was thrown from pouch very prematurely, so they kept him warm in the backpack...except when she took him out so we could hold him.

Now I wouldn't recommend throwing caution to wind if someone wants to show you his or her backpack, but at least make sure weather or not there is a kangaroo in there. Or warm, fuzzy, living puppies.