My friend is waiting on me, he needs my help. I had to tell him I’m so sorry but I’m busy, I’ll catch up to him later and lend him a hand, or whatever.
The thing is today I’m dog-sitting, at friend Martha’s mansion by the sea where she is the caretaker for some multi-millionaires, and where it is ridiculously comfortable. I got
there early with a bag of supplies consisting of Scottish smoked salmon, Belgian chocolates and a flask of dark rum.
Really, my friend is lucky I even heard the phone. If the sun hadn’t tucked itself behind a scrim of pale clouds I would still be in the pool, floating on my back with my eyes closed, sopping up the sensation of allowing the cooled pool water to roll over my exposed torso while I’m inhaling the flower flecked air. Paradise.
area at the mansion by the sea, with its wide open views of raucous nature, is closed in with a roof and walls of netting, keeping pesky insects at bay. With Martha’s pooch by my side, both of us snacking on the salmon and the chocolates and the rum, I watched a tiny bird slowly freak out. I watched his repeated attempts to find an escape. He knew he was trapped, but he also knew he got in, and therefore, there was reason to keep trying. And yes I feel confident I can paraphrase on his behalf because I observed him and I deduced his intentions, and let me tell you it was heartbreaking. He crashed against the near invisible barrier. Over and over he flew up and smashed his little self against the confusing wall. Bird had tremendous determination and didn’t give up. I worried he would break his neck.
Pooch snoozed, uninterested or possibly tipsy, while I opened the two screen doors hoping to lead Bird, demonstrating my purpose by walking through and back a couple of times. Eventually Bird was exhausted and now he rested on the white marble ground, panting slightly, his small shape slumped, his rounded wings hanging despondently at his sides. I was so sad for him, I really felt for him.
Then Bird pulled himself together and once more began hopping along the bottom of the wall of net, he bounced along in short hops, dispiritedly. He looked like a circus actor walking home still in costume, I almost expected him to start puffing on a cigarette.
Instead, Bird found the exit, a tear in the net wall just large enough for him to hop through. I missed the moment he crossed the threshold into freedom. But I did see his ecstatic loop-de-loops out over the canal, he was obviously overjoyed and buzzed about in huge circles loudly chirping before flying away, into a black spot on the cerulean sky.
I was flooded with relief at his success. And now I must go help that friend of mine. I could get canonized at this rate.