The Night of the Bird

Occasionally Mocha and Onyx let us sleep until 6am. We consider it a privilege. Most mornings, one of them has to pee at the inconvenient hour of 3 or 4am. On one such memorable occasion, it happened to be my turn to let the dogs out. Bleary-eyed, I stumbled to the back door to let them out, then collapsed on the couch to wait until they were ready to come back inside. Usually this only takes a few minutes. They do their business, then coming galloping up to the door in expectance of a snack and a quick return to their warm beds. So I waited… and waited. Finally the thought entered my sleep-befuddled brain: they’re taking an awfully long time. I’d better investigate. 

Surely you don't think WE could be doing anything naughty...


I half-heartedly grabbed the flashlight and opened the door; it was freezing and I was in my pajamas. Squinting, I called the girls as I waved the weak beam around the backyard. Suddenly a brown bullet streaked past me and crashed into the closet door. Mocha was ready for her snack, but where was Onyx? She, the sweet, obedient one, was usually the first back inside. I called her again. Still nothing. Growing concerned, I rattled a cup of food and felt relieved as I heard the jingle of collar tags coming nearer.  Onyx popped into the house, looking extremely pleased with herself. Head held high and tail wagging to beat the band, she also had something in her mouth. In the still-darkened room, it looked like a big stick of some kind. A big feathery stick. The horror of realization dawned as I flipped on the light. “DAMMIT! WHAT THE HELL! NOOO! NONONO! DROP IT! DROP IT!” Confused and slightly petrified, Onyx dropped her prize and cocked her head at me. Still shouting obscenities, I dragged two protesting pups back to their crates without a snack.
“Brian,” I hissed. Snores. “Brian!” That woke him up. 


“There’s a dead bird in the house.” 


“There’s a damn dead bird in the damn house. I need you to get it.” 

“Are you serious?” 

“It’s 4am. I don’t make jokes this early.” 

Brian gallantly disposed of the unfortunate bird. Later I felt bad for freaking out at the dogs. Onyx knows I love birds; I have bird artwork all over the house. She thought I would like one of my very own, and she was so proud of herself for getting it for me. Unfortunately this would not be our last bird incident. 

The mourning doves that frequent our backyard are not very clever


Tags: , , , , ,

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: