Birdbrains – A Fugue In Three Parts

Birdbrain 1:  Got home from work yesterday afternoon a little early to begin preparations to attend an office-related awards banquet.  Mr. Pickles the Wonder Dog was happy to see me – as always –  and I’d noticed that I’d left the door to my deck open.  i remembered opening it at lunchtime, and must have forgotten to close it before fluttering back to the office.  No harm – doggie was fine, hadn’t leaped 10 feet to his death.  Other than the possibility that he’d been barking the afternoon away and annoying the neighbors… but i am convinced that my nearest neighbor is deaf* so even this was no trouble.  Still, not a good plan to leave the back door open when I’m gone – if for no other reason, every bug on the planet will invade my bedroom, hide in my underwear drawer until dark, and then feast on my flesh and blood once I go to bed.

Birdbrain 2: I set about getting ready for the dinner.  Stripping down to my undies, i started piling my hair up on my head for the semi-formal dinner event.  Although i couldn’t quite identify the sound, i kept hearing something that sounded like a wood-chipper, or generator, outside**.  Went to the front of the condo to look out the window, but couldn’t pinpoint the noise.  Strange.  Walking back to my bathroom, i successfully geolocated the sound – looking up to find a hummingbird beating itself to death against one of my skylights.  About 20 feet over my head.  This is a deep well skylight – and standing there in my underwear, I was at a complete loss as to how to get a small bird out of my house when it’s stuck in a skylight. 

It had to be tired – hummingbirds have to eat constantly to sustain energy to flap their wings like, well, hummingbirds.  Having no idea how long it had been there, I was concerned that the damn thing would just fall to the carpet.  The white carpet.  And then be eaten, shredded and splattered everywhere in a mass of feathers, bone and blood by my dog.  Somehow, i had to rescue the white carpet bird before leaving for the dinner event…  Grabbing a washcloth, I balled it up, and threw it toward the bird – hoping to drive it 5 feet downward, out of the skylight well, and back toward freedom…  I managed to hit it a few times, but this only served to freak it out – making it more frantic.

“Shit.  Now what?”  Went back to the bathroom, and began working the face paint, while continuing to munch over options.  Cripes!  How do you get a hummingbird out of your house?  Who do you call?  How big of a mess would Mr. P make of a tired hummingbird?  Will eating a bird make him sick?  Give him the shits?  What do you use to get bird blood out of a white carpet?  Dog poo containing bird blood?

Birdbrain 3:  Just then, i hear a ‘thud’ behind me.  The bird had apparently dropped from the well, followed me toward the bathroom, and smacked into a closet door directly behind me.  About 3 feet in front of my lounging dog, who barely moved… He looked up, groaned a groan of tired annoyance, rearranged his dulaps***, and went back to his nap.  The bird looked pretty seriously dead.  Grabbing a hand towel, i covered the bird – and felt him still moving.  i also discovered that hummingbirds have a nice little chirp – so he wasn’t quite dead yet.  Racing for the deck****, i opened the towel figuring I’d set him on the deck, allowing recovery without the “canine assist”.  The damn thing looked at me – i swear he sighed – and then took off.  Walking back to the bathroom, i finished getting ready – and wondered what the hell kind of watchdog i’ve got.  He’ll bark randomly in the middle of the night when receiving a signal from the dog planet, and yet a bird can fly past his nose inside the house and he barely moves.  

Which is why i continue to sleep next to a 24″ blade, and have a wooden baseball bat tucked securely under my bed….

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* No complaints yet about noise, and there have been some seriously noisy things going on at my place.  All related to “moving in”, of course…

** Not uncommon at the moment – still lots of folks with no power.  And i ain’t just talking about the Democrats at the moment…

*** A “dulap” – at least as i recall – is what you call those hanging lip thingies on a dog snout that they are so fond of rearranging.  For hours.  All night long when you are trying to get to sleep.  A quick bit of net research led me to an alternate definition – which makes the story funnier…

**** Yes.  Still in my underwear, but sporting a nice “up” do with the hair…

Semper Fido

Dragged Mr. Pickles the Wonder Mutt out with me for a walk tonight after work. He’s not good on a leash, and at almost 100 lbs, can knock me over while chasing invisible bunnies and following orders received from his handlers on The Dog Planet.

Rather than the choke collar – which didn’t work, and made the local animal rights people put my face on the “Evil Dog Mommy” posters displayed at the post office – i’ve started using something called “the gentle leader“.  This is a head harness that presses on the snout when pulled. He hates this thing. But he loves walks, so once we’re out of the Jeep, he’s forgotten his annoyance and is back to being the Marco Polo of the doggie set…

It was a beautiful evening… and it didn’t seem unreasonable to go out for an hour. At the halfway point Mr. Pickles had other plans. I’d brought a dog water bottle, and as he drank from the spout, he flopped to the ground with an audible plop – effectively telling me he was on strike.

Just as a human can appear to be in good health but have no cardiovasular strength, i suddenly realized that the Couch-Meister was in dire need of a fitness improvement program… yet i was 30 minutes away from the Jeep and had to deal with the immediate problem at hand. Thinking through several possible outcomes, i realized i might need to sling 100 lbs of squirming fur, poo and saliva around my neck to carry him back*.

Fortunately, he recovered enough to make the return trip… and i now have an additional workout buddy. Even though he’s a lean, not-even-close-to-mean, slobberin’ machine, my canine life partner dog is seriously out of shape.

Misery loves company, and Mr. Pickles better get used to evening treks with the old lady.  And i’m going to have to get used to seeing this when i get him home…

* Not only would i be slinging the dog around my neck, but i’d be juggling the water bottle (which could have been tucked into my shorts) and the bag of lukewarm poo (which could NOT have been tucked into my shorts).

The Dog Log…

It was worth a try, but time to regroup.  It turns out, an empty nester with a neurotic and dysfunctional highly affectionate dog cannot in good conscience abandon him to the kennel when business travel beckons…

It was working the first few times, dropping off my confused, but generally happy, pup at the kennel before roadtrips.  He’s a bit ADHD and confused, and it seemed i was retrieving him before he even noticed i was gone. 

Things didn’t go so well last time.  While i was drinking and whoring networking in California, Mr. Pickles was on a hunger strike at the kennel.  By the time i picked him up (after 4 days) he was a wreck – fur coming out in chunks, a hint of his ribcage peeking out at me… and he was barely able to bark, offering a raspy, pathetic and guilt-inducing substitute instead…

Evaluating options, i found the name of a highly recommended pet sitting service.  Having just completed the initial interview*, i think this is going to work out pretty well…  The price is right, the sitter will bring in the mail and newspaper, and the mutt doesn’t have to leave the couch.  She even offered to bring over a ‘doggie play buddy’ to keep him company!

Now, if i could just stop referring to him as that “Little Brown Hole of Need”…

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* I spent almost an hour straightening my house before the interview, putting away dishes, cleaning dog bowls, digging suitable pet toys from under the sofa.  Seriously, why do i care?  Must i really prove my ‘dog mother worthiness’ to hired dog-sitters?