So, when an injured bird mistook my back patio for a veterinary hospital, I took pity on the poor creature. It appeared to have an injury to its miniature bird pelvis, but I did not know the extent of its injury. I asked Maleen if I should take care of it. She and I agreed that one of the last things I want to have happen is to have a bird greet me after I've left this life and ask me why I offed it without trying to save it. The course of action decided then, I attempted to repair this feathered beast.
This is "Griffin." Or, more appropriately, was. You see I was Dolittle Do Late. He gave a rather weak attempt at surviving. As it turns out I should have offed the bird when I found him. Now I expect the post-mortal conversation to go something like this:
Griffin: So you're the guy that let me suffer and die in that cardboard coffin?
Me: Yup.
Griffin: You know I spent my last hours alone and in pain?
Me: Do you want me to kill you now? I know a good cat...Oh well, I tried.
2 comments:
I feel you are pretty magnanimous considering all the trouble the birds have been causing around here.
So if this one gives you lip up there, there are at least of few others who could put in a good word for you.
But don't ask for help from the ducks you caught by hand. They may not have much to say for you.
I too think cats are of the devil. Way to try to help out that bird though!
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