Wondering what to do on a rainy monday morning? Dont quite feel like hitting the gym, nor want to slouch in front of a movie?
Find a broken bird, as you drink your coffee on the balcony.
Chuck and I (Yes, I named him Chuck, Charles for the non familiar. ) met this morning, as I was contemplating my extra day off. He came out of a mudd hole, that probably looked like a WWI trench to him. Hopping on a limb as best he could. I didnt see what happened to him. But having a colourfull imagination, I like to think he got ghosted by his date, felt to the ground, from sadness and got jumped by a gang of cats, for his wallet.
Chuck, being from baltimore gave a litteral flying fuck, and knocked three of them out, before the last pussy, sucker clawed him from behind...
I came out, approached him slowly, and got him to wobble quite easely into my hand. Brought him inside, wiped the wetness away, even installed a little heater to give him some warmth.
Having about as much expertise in broken bird, as I have with my love life, I did what any modern men would.
... Asked the internet.
Do not feed!
Do not give drink!
Do not over manipulate...
So I remove the gin an tonic & the sushis and our preliminaries I had prepared him. After a few clichés to prove I wasn't psychotic; placed him in a box with a towel.
Then proceeded to call every darn closed vets in a 50km radius, knowing full well, it was gonna be a demanding challenge. Vets that we're open, threw the ball at one another, since Chuck's an Oriole, he'd appreciate that baseball pun... One vet rerouted me to a spca, to witch they we're closed...
On their web page however, they had the Sureté du Québec's number.
I giggled, as the phone wranged.
-Help, my bird's broken...
Cops on the line, hangs up!
Not at all what happened, but the situation was burlesque. I could almost see the confused face of the agent answering the phone. ...Heuuu.》 She said, 《we don't really do this, unless it's big.》 Bitch was skinny shamming Chuck! How dared she? She reffered me to another dispatch, after I joked with her that the SQ we're also closed today. I laughed, she didnt. The other dispatch was also stunned by my awckward demand. Tried to refer me to a vet, who was you got it, also closed. She kinda hurried up and pretty much hunged up on me. I called the emergency Vet in Brossard, resolved to travel in order to save Chuck's life. They told me, they only did cats and dogs. I thought about driving to the police station and ding-dong ditiching my new buddy. Then... the phone wranged, it was one of the police dipatch I had talked to, calling back to give me the number of a refuge an hour away. Gotta give it to her, to protect and serve indeed. Even for Chuck...
I called them, they asked if I could bring the now volatile Chuck in his box? Buddy was getting rowdy in there. You can take the oriole away from Baltimore, you can't take Baltimore away from the oriole right?
Meh! I thought. Got nothing better to do.
Road trip!
Taking a bird on a road trip is such an irony. It's like giving a pair of crocks to Usain Bolt...
Took Chuck, in his box, hopped in the car, and off we went. Imagine if I had found the love of my life while on this side quest. Chuck would have been the best, *(and litteral) wingman ever!
Played him some Tool and Dream Theatre on the way up, thinking my song choices might be questionable, but still beats police sirens driving him to the emergency. An hour later, parked the automobile up a gravel road, and went to check on my new buddy.
-How we doing Chuck?
(Yes I did have multiple conversations with a bird. I'm alone but rarely lonely...)
...Chuck?
Opened the box. Bugger!
Chuck had passed. Right then and there as I was parked in this bird sanctuary. Felt a lil dumb, lil awckward also, when I approach the lady with my now coffin box.
-What seems to be the issue?
-Well... hummm think he's dead now.
I noticed she held her laugh, as I must have looked dumbfounded in front of her.
Signed the papers, gave her Chuck's carcass, we removed our baseball caps, held a minute of silence, and off I went.
Not gonna lie, had to mentally slapped myself for being a tiny lil bit emmotional; about this absurd side quest, I took on this morning. On the way back home, I started rumminating about this story.
30minutes to write, 2 hours to try and correct myself... phone died as well.
Why Jesus, why?
Chuck, Charles.
I don't know if it was my driving, the playlist or if the cats really messed you up. I personally, blame the police, for refusing what was clearly, an emergency situation...
You gorgeous mother fucker, gave me an adventure on a going nowhere day. The perfect irony, and you croaked, listening to the dance of eternity...Just goes to show. Everything can be, if you look at birds, instead of flipping it at the world. Although I always been more of a White sox fan, You we're THE oriole! Wish you had lived budd. Rest in piece.
