Last week I blogged about the downside to being a stay-at-home mom, which is killing bugs yourself instead of having your husband do it.
There is another downside: dealing with birds.
Ozzy Pups caught a bird in our backyard. It was only a matter of time before this happened.* He’s fast, jumps high, and our neighbors feed all the birds and squirrels constantly so they’re fat and slow.
*Ozzy may have killed a squirrel last summer, but because I didn’t actually see it happen, I just tell myself the squirrel fell from a tree, the fall killed it, and Ozzy just found him.
A wounded, bleeding bird was in my backyard.
I swear the bird looked exactly like this. Book and all.
I should have celebrated and chalked up a point for me in the war against birds, but instead, I felt bad for it.
So what did I do?
I called Kiefer so he could come home and kill it.*
*To put it out of its misery, not because I hate birds.
He refused. So I gave the bird some water and kept Ozzy inside to save the bird from further torment.
Two hours later, the bird flew away.
*I’m not sure how because I’m pretty sure there were more feathers in the yard than on the bird.
Three hours later, my car was covered in bird poo. Coincidence? I think not.