July 22 8:20 p.m.
Writing has eluded me as of late. OK, I have to come clean – that statement was a half truth. Now for the other half — I have been avoiding writing lately. My last WordPress post was June 23, almost a month ago, and I was going to blame my lack of writing on obssessively using my new Kindle (an early birthday present) as evidenced by the title of this post, but that’s not the truth either. God, I feel like I’m in a confessional and I’m not even Catholic. I suppose I just have accept the fact that sometimes I don’t write and not crucify myself over it, but I do.
Before I go on, I again feel the need to confess about a couple of my previous posts entitled “That Ticks Me Off,” and “Old Dog, New Trick.” Both posts were written over a decade ago for AOL Instant Novelist and recycled (edited a little) for WordPress. I’m glad I got that off my chest but you know, after finding a folder of my AOL Instant Novelist posts and reading them one night, I thought they’d be worthy of sharing on WordPress (plus I had a bad case of writer’s block at the time).
I still feel a bit guilty about doing that however and henceforth, I will admit to future “recycled” posts. I am now absolved of most of my guilt.
Long pause. The Bachelorette is on TV right now and it’s very distracting. It’s the “bachelors tell all” episode and I haven’t paid attention to any of it but it’s distracting nonetheless.
Thank God, a commercial is on and not the whining bachelors. Now I can concentrate. Somewhat . . .
I love my new Kindle. Now I can check my email without it taking 45 minutes. My computer is ancient and loaded with malware and viruses so Yahoo mail takes forever to load. Plus, when I type an email on Yahoo, it lags, so after typing a couple of sentences I have to wait a minute or two before what I’ve written appears. Very aggravating. Now I type emails on Word and copy and paste them instead of typing them on Yahoo mail or I use the Kindle to type emails, but I can’t be as verbose. It’s difficult to use a “screen keyboard” as I can’t use all my fingers. Wow, life is tough . . .
I haven’t been writing much but I have been doing a lot of reading on my Kindle lately. I just finished the book “Enslaved by Ducks” by Bob Tarte and coincidentally, I had a Bob Tarte experience last week. “Enslaved by Ducks” is about the author’s menagerie of animals, mostly birds, and last week, I rescued a young sparrow from the jaws of our cat “Domino.” Domino ran into the kitchen and instead of running right to the door to get into the garage (where we feed him), he ran under the kitchen table. I thought that was odd until my husband Mitch yelled “Domino’s got something” and I heard the dire peeping of a bird in distress. My husband is always scared to death of what Domino hunts and brings home to us, so I have to handle it.
I yelled at Domino, he dropped the bird and I immediately picked it up and ran into another room to assess the damage. The bird was young, a fledgling as evidenced by its pin feathers and some down on its stomach. He (or she – I will refer to the bird as he because I don’t want to say he/she all the time) had suffered major bodily damage and obviously mental trauma. Both feet looked mangled and one of his eyes was gray (blinded by the cat). Blinky became my new project and I immediately went to the internet for advice on how to care for him.
I put him in a small bird cage and I had found a nest in our back yard a few days prior, so I put that in the cage (he immediately hopped into the nest). I also put a t-shirt on the bottom of the cage to keep him warm. Internet searches advised that I put him in a cardboard box but I decided against that as I wanted him to have some air.
Per the advice I found on an internet wild bird rehab site, I made a mashed gruel of dog kibble (soaked in warm water), hardboiled egg and applesauce. I fed him every few hours during the day and he ate heartily the first day but I had to wrap him in a towel with just his head showing as he could not stand up on his damaged feet. The next day he cheeped for his food, ate a lot more and was able to stand on one foot. By the third day, I didn’t have to wrap him in the towel and was very encouraged because he was able to stand up to be fed (one foot was OK, the other still a bit wobbly).
When Mitch got home from work, I couldn’t wait to show him how well Blinky was doing. We went to the spare bedroom (where he was safely housed) for his late afternoon feeding and he wasn’t standing up as usual. Blinky was on his side in the corner of his cage. “He’s dead,” I screamed, picking up the stiff carcass. I cradled him in my hand, crying my eyes out.
Of course, I was devastated and thought about all the things I may have done wrong. Maybe there was too much water in the gruel (it was kind of soupy the first day) and he drowned (liquid in his lungs). Perhaps it was the dog kibble – too many additives or vitamins for a bird. Maybe I fed him too much. Then I thought about Domino. That damn cat; it was all his fault.
I was pissed at Domino but later that night, he came into the bedroom, jumped on the bed and began to knead the pillow furiously (I’ve never seen him knead so fast). He purred like a high-pitched motorboat and when I looked into his beautiful lemon/lime colored eyes, my anger about what he did to Blinky evaporated. I just wish he’d stick to hunting rodents . . .