2014 so far: A Cheese Bird of A year
2014 is coming in with a bang.
The first day of the new year, I was just drifting off to sleep. That was, until one of the boys pounced onto my ribs.
He didn’t simply just hop up on them. Noooooo… 20 pounds of Coon cat jumped on me from 3 feet up and 6 feet away. I remember the pressure of a concrete block concentrated into a ½ inch area as he landed on a rib.
The rest of the night, I couldn’t get comfortable.
All day yesterday, the area pounced upon by 20 pound coon cat alternately cramped, throbbed or ached. That afternoon, I discovered that a cat can crack your rib if he lands with enough force at just the right angle.
But the 1st day of 2014 wasn’t done with me yet.
One of the dogs threw up on my bedding at 5am. I know not which it was. By 5:30am, the bedding was in the wash and I was up writing a blog entry.
Congratulations . 2014 day number 1 started out with a retching crack.
Now for day 2.
After all of 5 hours sleep yesterday, I was in bed by 6:30pm…
…and awake at 9:30pm.
In the background of my mind, the sound of a rhythmic che-che-che-che distress call filtered through ears that were too tired to hear, until the squawking was loud enough to wake me.
I rolled up off the bed, meandered into the kitchen and found the boys crouched over the sound. Yes, the first thing I did was shoo them away from the tiny creature. Laying on a pile of gray feathers was a motionless bird.
All right, so my next task was to get a dust pan and an empty paper towel tube. I was sliding the bird onto the dustpan when it hops up, dashing past the cat food.
CHE-CHE-CHE-CHE it cries, heading for the room where my bed is at
Obviously, I’m not the only one that 2014 isn’t through with yet.
Many things go through your mind when you’re half-awake and facing a mini-crisis, such as:
- Now what? Do I look like a bird catcher?
- Why didn’t I throw salt on its tail when I had the chance?
- Is it going to die on my bed after pooping first?
- I hope I can catch it so it has a chance to live.
- I hope it doesn’t have rabies.
- Are the cats vaccines up to date?
- Crap! The boys are stalking it. Again!
What does a woman do when there’s a bird trying to burrow under her bed? She tries to wake her husband and make it HIS problem. Unfortunately, he’s fallen asleep by the TV.
“There’s a bird on my bed!” I yelled.
“Oh,” He says, falling back to sleep again.
Now what? He’s as much help as a coma patient sleeping through the roar of a mob running down the streets of NYC trying to escape Godzilla.
So, I traveled downstairs to see what Birdzilla was doing.
He’d moved off my bed and was in a face-off with the boys. The CHE-CHE sound increasing in volume.
“You’re not totally stupid. Do something!” I tell myself. However, I wasn’t totally convinced about the truth of that statement. “It’s just a bird and there’s a cure for rabies!”
I started toward the door to look for something big enough to put a screaming bird into. That’s when the Color Laser Printer from Hell sought vengeance over the humiliation of being forced to…well…print.
At some point in the quest to chase down the bird, a dog or a cat freed the thick wire going from the back of the printer to the electrical outlet. It found my ankle, deftly wraping itself around the unsuspecting body part, and I watched as the floor came after me.
It gives new meaning to the word WHAP as my hip and shoulder hit the concrete.
Did I mention I landed on the side with the cracked rib?
I untangled the wire, finding that the end sticking out of the back of the computer had loosened but still remained in the machine by some freaking force of nature, miracle, or the fact that the Printer from Hell is cursed.
Soooo… I’m going “Ow,” the bird is going “CHE-CHE” and I’m wondering if I’ve just discovered the intro to a very bad 1950’s song:
Ow, comma, Che-Che, ow, comma, comma, coma, Ow, comma Che-Che, ow…
Unfortunately, the bird problem was still hopping around and I was no closer to finding a way to get it back out again. What do I do when I have to get the rusty wheels of thought cranking in my mind? I get a hunk of extra sharp cheddar cheese, wrap it in a paper towel and munch.
I’m holding a 1 x 3 hunk of much-too-orange-colored cheese in my hand when I spot the almost empty Milkbone box staring back at me on the floor of my office.
“You’re not going to make it that easy for me, are you?” I asked God.
I sighed, pulled the flaps up from the box, shood the Boys away and put the box next to the bird. It hops through the opening like a commuter entering a train. I pull the flaps back down, listening to the che-che-che-che distress call while Birdzilla jumps around the inside of the box like a Mexican jumping bean on steroids.
Box and bird gently placed on the ground, I open the flaps. Birdzilla hops out, looks at me and shouts, “CHE!” Then it walks back into its new home.
It’s 11pm. I’m going back to bed and hope to God that day 3 doesn’t involve a 12 car pile-up, a plane crash, and a giant lizard.