An Open Letter to the Dying Bird
Dear Dying Bird,First, let me start off with by saying that I'm sorry you're dying. It is unfortunate and I would have never wanted this for you. There was a time when I would have put on shoes, gotten a flashlight and gone looking for you to see if I could help you.
But I am now a mother getting over a bad cold and need every single precious minute of sleep possible. It is simply unacceptable to start squawking right outside of our bedroom window at one am, only to continue to do so all the way up until seven am. I don't know if you know this, but that means that we got absolutely no sleep last night. It is also cruel to squawk consistently for hours, only to stop for about ten minutes here and there, leading us to foolishly believe you've A. died or B. somehow gotten better and flown away.
Again, I'm sorry for your lot in life, I'm sorry that you've been resigned to squawking all night long, withering away, but I swear to god, if you do this again tonight, I will come looking for you and it will be for the sole purpose of putting you out of your misery. (Think baseball bat... no, I'm not kidding... I get a little crazy when I'm this tired.)
Sincerely,
SueBaby
posted by suebaby @ 8:17 AM
2 Comments:
Dear dying bird,
I too am sorry for your flight plight. I too would have gone searching for you in years past only to stay up all night, attempting to feed you with a dropper only to watch you die the next morning. Alas, life has changed. You must die elsewhere now as I too will be killing you as I dreamt about in the 5 minutes I slept last night. I thought of a baseball bat but then realized I may accidentally miss or just mame you so I have decided it will be with a butcher knife. As gruesome as this sounds, I can hack it...when I need to take a trip down Sleepy River and Very Loud Bird Dam gets in the way, the dam must come down whatever the cost.
Dear Non-dying bird,
Apparently you are not dying after all, perhaps not even a bird? Apparently you are just very loud, as I found out last night at 5am when I went downstairs and outside with the knife sharpener ready to blugeon you to death. You were much further away than I thought and even louder than I could have imagined. Further, you were in the middle of a swamp so I could not get to you. I was forced to return to my bed where my wife lay with a pillow over her head. I followed suit. Finding some humor in the extremity of the situation, I even laughed...my wife did not.
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