A new net won’t catch an old bird, but an old car will…

Let me preface this with the fact that I am a lover of all creatures of the Earth.

Except maybe cats.

But other than putting the occasional dab of Tabasco sauce on my roommate’s cat’s toy, I would never do anything to intentionally hurt any animal.

If you are aware  that every pet I’ve ever acquired is at my parent’s house because of my neglect, please note that they are there because I did not want to unintentionally hurt them. Yes , I know my parents recently  let my rat Bogart free at my family farm because I never went home to clean out its cage like I said I would; but I would like to believe that he is still living happily in the wilderness, despite his lack of cheese and chocolate and the prevalence of rattle snakes and vultures in the area.

I knew that if I didn’t go straight to the gym after work yesterday, I would walk into my house and smell the pot roast that had been cooking all day; and then proceed to stand next to the crockpot, sipping broth with a giant spoon for 2 hours  until the roomies got home.  So instead  I forced myself to go work my ass out.

On my drive home, (as I do every day after work) I caught up with my friends who don’t use google chat, and tried to decide which movie podcast I would listen to during my workout.

I was driving along  the tollway at about 70mph and chatting it up with my friend Moops, when I saw the feathered feller.

A huge black bird about 100 yards in front of me.

In all actuality, I have no idea what a distance of 100 yards would look like but it sounded good. I just know that this big bird was close enough where I could see it without glasses.
If you are familiar with Dallas rush hour traffic, you know that you have no control over 80% of what happens on the road. You can’t change lanes without putting your blinker on 5 minutes (or .5 mile) before you actually have to get over.  And swerving to avoid hitting a bird would be a death wish to you, as well as to the passengers of the other five cars that you would hit in the process.

To be honest, when I first spotted the bird, I wasn’t really worried. I’ve come across birds on the road nearly every day since I’ve been driving, but they’ve always been smart enough to fly away before my car made contact.

As I got closer, I could tell that something was afoot.  All the cars that had been in front of me had managed to miraculously move over to the next lane. It may have been that I wasn’t exactly paying close attention, or maybe I can blame it on the fact that I can’t see a thing without my glasses- but I honestly didn’t notice that the bird was  staggering until I was about five(?) feet away. Time slowed down as I realized  he was frantically leaning to one side as he tried to take flight. The poor bugger was seriously hurt.

I swear we caught eyes, and I could tell that he knew that it was over. As They Might Be Giants -Birdhouse in your Soul started playing in my head…

I closed my eyes, dropped my phone, and let out a loud, long NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO as I felt myself gently lift from my seat, just as you do when you are going over a very large speed bump.

I looked in the rear-view mirror just in time to see the feathers, floating down from all directions onto the pieces that were left of the helpless  birdie.

I made that bird explode.

I immediately pulled over to the side of the road and let out a series of inaudible noises while clutching my chest and pulling my hair. Where does a person like me go??

The only positive of this moment of pain, was that my frenetic movement and obvious crazy person antics diverted the homeless person on the corner from asking me for money.

Nonetheless, I am a murderer. I am a killer. I’m like Dexter only without motive; and my victim was an innocent, harmless bird.

I will never get that image out of my head.

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