And He Was Gone

I rose from the bed and stumbled into the kitchen to drown my first bottle of water.

I crinkled up and sniffed - my nose smelled something beginning to be bad.

I know this in my I've smelled things before that begin and end bad kind of way.  Only a mama kind of way.

My nose is an expert.  Age may be claiming some of my sense of hearing and seeing, but my nose is compensating.

It smelled bad, I poked my head in a room and sniffed.  I decided the birdcage needed cleaning and dragged her out of bed to do it now.

It wasn't the birdcage, but I'm afraid you won't believe me if I tell you what it was.

Now turned into an hour later and I sat that cage - with the bird still in it - on the front porch.

Sandra and Emily came and friends and webkinz occupied my girl's time and I continued to sniff and wonder why is it still lingering in the house?

Time right now for the cleaning I announced in my best Don't You Dare Put This Off Another Minute mama's voice.

Do you ever think that there are times that you should not have to spell everything out to then discover that you should have not only spelled it out but yelled it out?

And there he flew.  The beautiful cockatoo that had his need for a wing clipping put off just one day too late.

Into the wild blue yonder.  And he was gone.

Few days later Sandra called to say that there had been a woodpecker in her bedroom that morning.  Brought in by the cat.  The fire department came and rescued it, took pictures, and released it back into its home. 

Maybe my bird and her bird have met up, exchanged horror stories, and mated for life.  One can hope.

And the smell?  Pig's blood.  Discovered only after it got past really bad.

Don't ask, cause . . .

That's all I have to say about that.  Name that movie.