I hope I can get through writing this post. I just ate two helpings of cookie dough and frankly, TUMMY FEEL SICKIE.
I have had one of those weeks where my pets are being such dicks! A was out of town for work and one morning I let Norman out earlier than normal because he was whining. He never does that so I thought maybe he really needed to go to the bathroom. I went back to bed. After about 15 mins I heard all this runing around.
“Lie down please!” I pathetically said in my cracked morning voice.
More movement. and then some sounds that were a little crash-bang -boomey so I got up to investigate. As I walked towards the kitchen where norman was, I could see that he was lying on his belly and his tail was wagging. I turned the corner and to my horror I saw… feathers. Feathers were everywhere! and the body of a GIANT bird was wedged between norman’s mouth and the underside of the fridge.
“WHAT IS HAPPENINNNNGGGGG” I said. followed by about 87 “Oh my God’s!”
Realizing that I was the only one who was going to be handling this disaster, I took action. “Norman, NO!” I yelled as I took his scruff and tried to pull him off of the bird. I finally got him away and banished him to the yard. I looked down at that dead bird on my kitchen floor and realized it was not dead but it’s little belly was moving up and down in a panic. My heart broke, “Oh no….. Sweet baby.”
That it was alive complicated things more because now I had the ethical dilemma of giving him a fighting chance or putting him out of his misery. I am a huge animal lover and I wanted to help this little thing out, even if it basically was a nasty pigeon. I could not just throw him outside and forget about him.
When I got closer to pick him up with paper towel, oh my god, he was missing a leg and was bleeding on his back probably where norman was gnawing at him.
“no no no no no no no oh man, baby I am sorry no no this is terrible.”
I managed to wrap him up- he was still, but his eyes were alert. I decided to pick him up and walk him back to the bedroom where my computer was. Yes, I know- this is the point in the story where everyone looks at me like I am disgusting but it was 6:30am and I wasn’t really thinking clearly. I started a search online for wildlife rehab centers in my area. Everything that happened next only took about two minutes but it was a damn circus. A goddamned circus I tell you.
With the bird cradled in one hand, I scrolled on my laptop with the other hand. Suddenly, my CAT appeared out of NO WHERE and jumped up onto the bed with us.
“Mia, NO!” Her eyes lit up when she saw what I had. This is a 12 year old indoor cat and you could tell after watching and cackling at birds from inside all these years, she was having her BIG. MOMENT. I imagined her with her face half painted blue like Mel Gibson in Braveheart, and that battle-cry look in her eyes, “VICTORY IS FINALLY MINE!!!!!!!”
The bird saw her and got a sudden rush of adrenaline or something so he started wiggling out of his paper towel.
“Oh God, No please.”
He got free and then Mia chirped as she lunged toward him. I grab her scruff with one hand and try to get her out of the room-The bird then starts hobbling ON MY BED with his BLOODY STUMP as he tried to flee from my ravenous cat! All this time I am screaming, but not like “No!” or “Stop!” I am screaming “Ohhhh this is is so horrible!” If the bird would have just dang stood still, I could save him but he keept getting away from me, only allowing the cat to be able to get closer!
Bird, flipping out, starts flying about, but he is quick enough to escape all my attempts at recapturing him. Feather’s are flying everywhere and my bedroom looks like half naked coeds had one of those fantasy sequence pillow fights in it. The bird poops in fear. So do I.
Finally he flies towards the bathroom and perches on the corner of the medicine cabinet, ironically, because he could really use some Neosporin or something on that horrid stump of his. Finally, I got him again and I managed to wrap paper towel around him and walk him outside. And just like it was nothing at all, he flew out and up into a tree by our gate. I stood there in my cat sleep shirt with “MEOW MEOW” written all over it, puzzled.
but you were dying
It’s been almost two weeks and we are finding feathers all over the place still. I had JUST put on new sheets the day before. Later that day, Mia puked on the duvet. Do you know how annoying those are to clean and then put back on!? The next morning, Mia pooped in the living room. Norman ate it. And then that night, Mia puked on the duvet again. Two days later, I found a very dead, plucked, eye popping out of his head, bird in our yard when I had returned home after just a few hours- leaving Norman out in the yard. I looked at him “I Don’t even know who you are right now.” It is still a mystery how these birds are ending up in our yard and in Norm’s mouth. He wouldn’t hurt a fly and he is so slow and uncoordinated. We feel like there are some dots that we aren’t connecting. Because (we’re these parents: “we know our son and he is not a birdurer”) see what i did there? With the words?
I dont know why I had such a strong urge to help this bird. I think I identified with him somehow. He was broken and in pain and I didn’t want him to be forgotten or tossed aside and left to die alone. I feel like that as a childless woman. and that invisible feeling is terrible and I feel it everyday. I think that permeates to how I felt about making sure that the bird knew that “I saw him.” What if that was me? Missing a leg, having just been mauled, in pain, and everyone just thought I didn’t deserve help. Survival of the fittest- they would say, and I wasn’t one of the fittest. God’s plan. Too bad. We’ll all go on with our lives and forget all about you.
Well, not in this house, you sweet, important, dirty, nasty bird.