My personality has never been one described as skittish. I’m not jumpy, or frightened easily, and I don’t walk the streets downtown bug-eyed and in a state of alertness for whatever danger may be waiting for me around the corner.
HOWEVER, I have never come as close to losing all bladder control as I did recently when sitting in my car. (Okay, maybe I’ve come close a few times, but really those times can only be considered post pregnancy incontinence issues that one learns to accept in the same manner I’ve accepted the permanent parentheses mark between my overgrown eyebrows. Excessive information, I know…)
Just as I was buckling my seat belt, I made the mistake of momentarily glancing towards my left, through the glass window, just in time to witness a near sighted and clearly unstable bird SMACK directly into the glass just inches from my face.
The bird and I made direct eye contact slightly before it slammed into my car with an audible THUD. His (her?) eyes were all googly and crazy looking and in that split second I made sinful judgment concerning my feathered friend’s intelligence.
Never before had I thought I might be a candidate for Depends until Mr. Cuckoo cannon-balled into my window. Now I walk around in a whole new state of bladder awareness never experienced before.
The children were fascinated with the dead bird and it took almost all of my evil eyes to adequately warn them from touching the stiff legged creature. I'm not sure what diseases they carry, I told them, but I'm certain THEY ARE VERY DANGEROUS AND WILL CAUSE THE VERY FINGERS YOU TOUCH THEM WITH TO FALL OFF. (I have to resort to my capital letters voice when the children do not respond to my evil eye.)
Understandably, there was much sympathy for the bird, and my oldest son ,Chase, thought it would be nice to have a proper viewing so neighborhood friends could pay their respects. The picture you see below details the "viewing":
Later that night, after remembering that we left the bird enshrined in the pool basketball net while we ate supper and the children took baths, we discovered that the bird was gone. Either a dog in the role of unsolicited pallbearer took the feathered body, or God took it home to glory, to fly high and away and joyfully free from all menacing Ford Expeditions.