Last night I came home from work with the intention of changing and going straight to the gym. However, I opened my mail, and saw my lab results from my life insurance exam, and, after gloating for about 20 minutes, explaining that I was the picture of health, Jeremy suggested that since I was so healthy, we should skip the gym and get ice cream instead.
Clearly the obvious way to celebrate one's health.
And so we did.
We walked out our mudroom door and into the garage, on our way to get ice cream, in celebration of ideal health statistics. Jeremy walked out first, and opened the garage door. The door was but 2 feet off the ground when I see Jeremy literally jump two feet in the air and scream bloody murder.
Scream like there is a murderer standing at the door.
Scream as though there is a pack of wild coyotes at the door.
Scream as though he has moments to live.
And so what do I do?
Scream louder, of course.
I scream, jump in the air, run in circles, and scream some more. Still unaware of the reason for my screams, as he has been unable as of this time to explain his screaming.
He finally calms down enough to spit out the words...BIRD.
I glance over, while hiding behind my car, with my purse over my head, as though it will protect me from impending doom, only to see a little bird laying on the ground just outside our garage door.
Yes, a tiny bird.
A tiny bird that unfortunately must have flown into our garage door, and was hanging on for life.
Now, you must know that I hate birds. HATE birds. But, I love animals. So I am conflicted in this area because my love of animals typically outweights my hatred of birds.
So after suggesting we call my cousin, who is a vet tech, to see if she can perform CPR, or my Dad, who always seems to know what to do in these situations, Jeremy decided that he should probably handle this one on his own.
So, he told me to remain behind the car, and hide my eyes. Yes, I'm that scared of birds. In the meantime, he gently moved the bird over, to our grass, with a broom, hoping it would come back to life. Well really it was more, me coaching him to keep pushing it over, while he continued to scream.
We sat the bird in a comfortable spot on our grass. And by we, I mean he, and then said the Jewish prayer for healing. Yes, yes we did. Why? Because I'm fairly certain that this bird was probably just slightly injured from its encounter with our garage door, and that it was our ear piercing, incessent screaming that killed the little bird.
Yes, the autopsy results would likely show that this bird died of heart attack, rather than blunt force trauma with a garage door.
Sad day for the little bird. Tonight, the bird funeral.