(no subject)

[nolage]

Today, as I was on my way to the tanning salon, I found a little bird laying on the pavement. It was small (I'm assuming it was a baby) and a pea-green color. It was laying with its head on the pavement as if it couldn't get up. I figured it had broken a leg. So I picked it up and it sat upright in my hand. I called a veterinary hospital who gave me the phone number to a wild-life rehabilitator. I talked with her husband (apparently she was in the woods looking at birds) who told me to bring the bird to the veterinary hospital on tenth street where they pick the bird up. Just as I got off the phone, the bird flew out of my hand and into a nearby tree. I got a phone call from the wildlife rehabilitator soon after and explained what had just happened. She said that was good, that the bird had probably went in shock and then came-to and was more than likely fine since it had flown on its own. I have to admit that I was a little sad. I wanted to keep the bird a little longer. The little bird (whom I think I would have named Peter - though I don't know why) sat happily in my hand for a good twenty minutes, occasionally closing its eyes, as if it were falling asleep.

This is not out of the norm for me, though. My family is not surprised when I come home with some stray puppy or cat. And it apparently also runs in my family: my Aunt Debbie (the patron saint of stray animals) once went so far as to pay a three hundred dollar vet bill in order to have a cast put on a stray squirrel's leg after it had fallen out of a nearby tree.

I need a pet.