What did I say I needed tattooed on my body yesterday? "Well, that didn't go as planned." Second verse, same as the first. Today was a series of events that cascaded from one single miscommunication. We knew we had to go down to Parker early this morning, on the opposite side of Denver from us. (Clarification, Mr S-P had to go and I volunteered to ride along to keep him company, since I was also offering him the use of my car for the fuel efficiency.) We left here by seven am to make our nine am appointment, and despite thick morning rush traffic, we arrived slightly early. We spoke with the person waiting for us, who asked us why we arrived with some of what we were bringing, but not all. We explained that the last email the man had gotten spelled out that we were supposed to come back again on Sunday. No, it was only supposed to be today, with everything. So we went back home, retrieved the other pieces, and drove back. By the time we returned after noon, the usual spring thunderstorms had rolled in, and instead of bad morning traffic, we had bad storm traffic. It sucked. Just flat out sucked. I watched a lot of tail lights all day, from the passenger seat. I tried to focus on the pretty mountains in the distance, when we weren't socked in with heavy rain. But mostly it was the ass end of cars, stopped in front of us on interstates. I'm pretty sure we drove over 300 miles today, back and forth. Thankfully, we shouldn't have to go back there, ever. (Fingers crossed)
Stella the bird is still here, but there is a plan. She still can't jump more than a few inches off the floor of her cage, and if she tries to overestimate her abilities, she ends up flat on her back on the bottom of the cage. It could be a lot worse than it sounds. Mr S-P did fill the bottom of the cage with grass clippings, and Stella likes it. But she needs significantly more care than we can provide. While we were giving her an out between long drives (letting her hop around the garden) he called a wildlife rescue organization a few miles from here. We will bring her to them tomorrow morning, and see what they can do to help her out. I don't know whether they will allow me to have any contact with her once I drop her off, but I'm going to ask. I really like this bird, and I feel like she came to ask for my help on purpose. How else did she end up sitting at the window directly next to where I spend most of my time, tapping to get my attention? Even if the rehabbers don't allow me to visit her, I'm going to hope that once she is well and released back into the wild, she will find her way back here to see me once in a while, even if it's just to perch in a tree and talk to me from a distance.
Elsa has been fascinated with Stella in a way that the boy dogs haven't been. They want to growl and bark at her, and chase her out of the yard. Elsa looks at her like she wants to keep her and be her nanny. It's the exact same expression she wore staring at all of the kittens I've brought into my life, especially Alfred, Jacqueline, and Athena. She stares at them like she has just seen the baby doll she has wanted her whole life. Stella seems unusually patient with her as well. She gently tapped the dog nose right next to her cage with her beak, but not in a mean sort of way. Just in an acknowledgement that they recognize each other, and agree not to escalate tensions as they are with the boy dogs.
No comments:
Post a Comment