Bird killa!

So today I come home from food shopping and there's a Pop Tart box on my desk. Now I don't eat Pop Tarts and the kids are at school (amen blessed peace). no clue how it got there. So I look at the box and there's a note attached.

What, Dakota, you ask. What did the note say?

This is what the note said...

There's a parakeet in the box--it's a long story. Dad's on his way with a cage. Will see you after I'm done babysitting. Mom has a part time gig with the neighborhood kids. She earns some cash and she's not here trying to shove tuna and rye down my throat all day long. So we're coo :)

So I ring-a-ling mom up and I go WTF??? Well, not the fuck part. Just the hell? because I try not to swear around my mother. She tells me this woeful story about how she was going into the county courthouse to get something (what now escapes me), and when she opened the door a parakeet, friendly as could be, landed on her foot.

So being the kind, help out a bird in distress kinda woman she is, she asks the lady at the desk in the courthouse to get her a box. I was happy to know my tax dollars are hard at work buying Pop Tarts for the Murphy courthouse employees.

Frosted Blueberry, if you must know :)

Soooooooooo--I'm not sure I'm buyin' this story because mom's been wanting another bird for a couple of years. I've been very hesitant because of the two cats and IF she leaves her door open in the en suite, or the boys do if they go to grab her phone--well, DEAD bird, right?

However, this bird sorta happened by accident (hmmmm), and I love animals--so I figure, okay. Dad brings the cage, plunks it down on the countertop and says, "So, Princess, ya got a bird."

No, Daddy, MOM has a bird. Dakota has everything else.

So we get the cage set up, we take the bird out of the Pop Tart box and it really is just too sweet. it's yellow, which as you all know, I don't recommend ANYONE wear. However, she's very fetching. It's very tame, hops on my finger, eats, chirps has a grand time. Now my mother has had birds before and I gotta tell ya, it takes a long time to train a parakeet to be as sweet as this one was. So I figure she probably wasn't fibbing about finding it out of nowhere. Someone spent some time with this bird and either dumped it, or lost it.

So we let the bird sleep because it's been through a trauma. My son Cam goes to check on it and he says, "Wow, he's REALLY tired. He's sleeping on the bottom of the cage with his feet in the air..."

Go ahead--laugh. It's okay. Really. I won't hold it against you.

I run assholes and elbows into the bathroom to find it is indeed "sleeping". I take it out and it's barely breathing, but I'm determined to save it if possible. My mother poo-poos such efforts. She's all of a sudden the bird lady and "knows" birds. She's convinced it will die. Well, fine, but in the meantime would it hurt to find out for sure?

Much calling vets who could be bothered after hours ensued and we finally find some bird lady who works for the Autobahn (sp?) society and mom takes it there.

Okay, so it died.

And I was sad cuz it was a cute little bugger and really sweet.

She was right--it died of hypothermia from the storm we had this morning.

However, this bird lady has promised mom another bird from her freakin' sanctuary (crazy bitch), and I'm not happy. See here's the thing--it's one thing to save a poor bird who needs a home. Completely another when you want to bring some helpless bird here and literally OFFER it up for sacrifice to my cats. That's willful intent, if you ask me. But whatevah.

My mom forgets a lot lately. She always forgets to shut her door and her dog (snuggles) always knocks down the gate on the stairs, thus letting poor, blind Wenzday UPSTAIRS. The dog is BLIND--if she falls--it's ovah. Not to mention the time she had my debit card for two weeks and swore I never gave it to her. AFTER I got a new one she found it in the pocket of her skirt...

Yeah, it's like that. So my fear she'll forget and leave the door open, I won't know and the cats will commit bird-icide is VERY real. Plus, she'll blame it on my kids. yeah, she's done that a time or two when SHE forgot to put the gate back up and I know she did because the kids were at school... Now typically, I wouldn't bring this up, but tonight--she took the cake. I know she's getting older and that sucks and it totally sucks to forget all the time--but she won't admit she forgets and we all end up in deep kimchee because of it. Oddly, she NEVAH forgets what she claims we did, when it was her who really did it. Tee hee :)

Now that's not to say the boys haven't forgotten to shut her door--they have, but I'd hate for them to screw up and end up killing her bird. Granted, they should be responsible, and I'm all for it, it's just one more thing I don't need to worry about. Which was sorta my piint in the below conversation.

Soooooooo--this is how it went down.

Me--I really don't think this is a good idea, mom. I have so much on my plate and if one of the kids left your door open and the cats ate the bird, I'd feel like crap.

Mom--I'll lock the door.

Me--Yeah. Like you did the last time Travis kept taking your phone and you were going to show him. Who had the phone two days later?

Mom--well, he got the key.

Me--Um, no. You were the ONLY one with the key. You LOST the key and you forgot you were locking the door, I come home and he has the PHONE. I ask you why and you tell me because he asked and you told him to go get it. Um, we were teaching him a lesson about putting things back--I hate to telly ya, grasshopper, but it didn't exactly work out when you forget you took the phone away to begin with.

Mom (with sad face and totally ignoring the point)--so are you saying I can't have the bird? I'm going to be all alone someday when you live with Rob. I can't live in your pocket, now can I? I'll have nothing and no one.

Me--dumbfounded by the drama, but only for a moment--because then I remember my teenaged years and I'm back in the saddle again-- Then wait until I move in with Rob to get a bird.

Mom (really sad face)--I can't believe you'd deny me something to keep me company.

Me--still dumbfounded, but recovering quite nicely. You have TWO dogs. That's not company enough?

mom--it's not like a bird.

Me--That's because it's a dog.

Mom--sad, sad, sad face.

me--totally guilted out. Look, it's not like this new bird you want needs a home. The other dead bird did. I feel like we're just inviting trouble.

Mom--If we don't give it a home, who will?

Me--the crazy bird lady who has it NOW!

Mom--but I spent sixty bucks on a cage.

Me--Take it back.

mom--I can't.

Me--Then I will.

Mom--You can't.

Me--Says who?

Mom changes tactics because when cornered, she either hurls buttloads of guilt at Dakota or avoids, avoids, avoids.

She opted guilt...

Mom (with accusatory face)--plus, you put it in your bathroom and the A/C was what killed it.

me--ASTONISHED--you did NOT just say that to me. I took the fricken' thing from a Pop Tart BOX--helllooooooooooo. A Pop Tart box you didn't even friggin' put HOLES in and just dumped on my desk. Not to mention the fact that you didn't even close my office door--Bailey or Kta, had that bird not been petrified in the box, could have knocked it off my desk and EATEN it. And you told me the bird lady said it was hypothermia from the storm. Now I'm a bird killer????

mom--shrugs, gives me the sad face and watery eyes. I didn't say anything when you brought Milo home...

Me--again, aghast. Um, mom--Milo's a DOG. he can fend for himself against Wenzday who's blind, Mike who couldn't run if there were a field of Milk Bones at the end of the rainbow, Gomez who's overweight, Mindy who's a neurotic mess and hides if you look at her sideways! A dog is much different than a helpless bird who's stuck in a cage and easy prey when you LEAVE THE DOOR OPEN! All I'm saying is, I can't take the guilt if my cat snarfs up your bird. I'll feel like crap and the way things have been going lately, you'll swear you SHUT the door and it was one of the boys who left it open. Then I'll have to buy you a new bird and thus, the vicious cycle will continue.

Mom--sad, sad, sad face. So are you saying I can't have the bird?

Me--big, deep, cleansing breath. No, Mom. I'd never say that. I'm saying I have a full plate these days. If Bailey or Kota eat the bird and you say ONE word to me, I'm divorcing you.

Mom--sulks, pouts, goes upstairs.

me--feels guilty as all hell, but glad I spoke my piece. I know how this'll go down if the bird dies. it'll be on me or the kids because as much as I love my mom--she kinda sucks at admitting she's wrong. Like my debit card just hopped into her pocket and stayed there because it was warm, yanno? I love her, but know your enemies weapons. LOLLOL

Couple of hours later....

R and I are in my office watching some TV. Travis comes home and he asks my mother when she's getting the new bird. Smart ass.

She looks both R and I in the eye--sad face in place and says, "It makes your mother unhappy. So I don't know if I will."

R as my witness, that's what she said.

I'm going to go slit my wrists now because I have to believe it'll be easier than getting the poor bird, coming home to the carnage after the cats eat it whole and feeling like shit. LOL

OYYYYYYYYYYYYY!