Wednesday, June 13, 2012

Oh sick.

If you know me, you know I think small birds are the grossest things on the planet. Well, small birds and moths. I have passed on this revulsion, much the same way the Hatfields and McCoys passed down their feud, to my children. On Saturday, when Ainsleigh went to pull her towel out of her backpack at the swim meet, she jumped back and screamed, "There's a MOTH in there!" I giggled (with pride?) but sobered quickly when she accused me of putting it in there. I guess I shouldn't have been too surprised at her reaction, considering how many times I've texted Joel from upstairs with a very sultry, "Come upstairs. Bring a flyswatter." The only thing I hate more than moths are dead moths.

Similarly, the only thing I hate more than small birds are dead small birds.

And I have one in my back yard this very moment.

I think I might die.

Albus Percival Dumbledore, our Wire Fox Terrier, defines awesome on a daily basis. This dog makes me wonder why I waited so long before giving in to dog ownership. I actually love this guy. We are having a blast training him and playing with him and watching his tail wag at warp speed, threatening to propel him forward, as he licks a plate of leftover scrambled eggs clean. Oh sure, we've had to move all books out of the family room. And yes, he has eaten a hole in the carpet. But he rings his doorbell to go outside and sleeps through the night and is exceptionally good-natured (read: calm) for a terrier.

So I'll probably forgive him for this. I just went outside and my ears were accosted with the sound of a bunch of birds chirping (screaming?). This confused me since this isn't a sound one usually hears at four in the afternoon. Four in the morning? Yes. Four in the afternoon? No. Birds are idiots. But there they were, a cacophony of avian hysteria filling my ears.

And then I saw him: Albus, standing over something dark. and feathery. and unmoving.

I groaned, because Joel had just left. NOW what do I do?! I ushered Albus inside (read: picked him up and ran while he tried to squirm free) and went in search of my bird-collecting gear (the latest box from Amazon). When I got back outside, I approached the bird as one would a dead T-Rex (I would imagine). But something wasn't right...the beak was no longer open...and then it BLINKED. ARGH - I nudged it with the box and it hopped, then flew, away.

And there I was, shouting at the dozen birds in the trees, "Go away! How dumb are you? He's going to do it again. Shut up!" Perfectly normal.

Twenty minutes later, I let Albus back out. Five minutes later I look out the window and groan. This time, he had really done it. I went outside to see him standing regally over his first kill. The bird is definitely dead (there's no eye TO blink, thankyouverymuch). I'm not going back out there, THAT'S how dead it is. And those stupid birds are still out there squawking away. So I did the only thing I could: Brought Albus inside, told the kids to not open the door, and texted Joel, "Come home soon. You're going to need something bigger than a flyswatter."


wanda said...

You know, I always wondered what Louie would do if he caught up with one of the squirrels that were always taunting him in our backyard... Today while running on the trail, I saw a man taking a picture of his dog standing perfectly still as if he were posing. As I got closer, I realized that the dog was standing nose to nose with a squirrel who was also standing perfectly still. Then, because he couldn't think of anything else to do, the dog started barking at the squirrel, who just sat there looking at him. Good thing Albus wasn't around, or that squirrel would be dead!

If this goes through, this is my second try at proving I'm not a robot!

Amy :-) said...

What no pictures?!? Glad to hear an Albus update, sorry it involved an another animals death though. I agree they must have been very stupid birds, get caught once was an accident. Twice is a suicide mission!