Pigeon This

Like most people, I suspect, I have a soft spot for animals. When it comes to domestic pets I enjoy the fatter ones. Like cats and dogs. Gotta be fat. So fat they wobble when they walk. Jiggly action prominent, I adore (by the way, this does not apply to humans). No, I wouldn't stuff them with food unwillingly like those poor duckies for their apparently tasty but un-pc fois gras. But I would give them hefty and healthy portions. Because let's face it. The majority do not like bone-stick skinny pets. Do they? Do they? (Except those weirdos who give love to greyhounds. Those things are eerie. But each to their own).

Ahem. Moving on. On the weekend whilst moving some of my junk from one place to another I saw a pigeon dying in an alley. I think I've mentioned before that I like birds. In Sydney I actually had a couple of budgies (aka parakeets) named Walter and Speedy Gonzales. They didn't love me as much as I loved them because one day they flew out my window that I had accidentally left opened and before my eyes I watched Speedy smack head first into the opposite skyrise flats. It was a sad day.

Back on track. This pigeon made me quite upset. The poor thing was walking in half-hearted circles as one of its wings didn't seem to function any longer. I wanted to save it but was due to my apartment to move stuff and I wasn't sure if I should touch it because according to everyone in the world that I know (or is this just me?) pigeons have got a bad rep. Flying rats, I believe they are commonly referred to as. I take it this is due to being disease-riddled. Or so it is said.

So I left. Without helping the pathetic creature. On arrival back from across the City, I walked through the alley and saw the pigeon. Dead. Keeled over and starting to be attacked by flies already. Guilt-stricken, I looked around desperately to see if there was somewhere we could bury it. "Bf, should be bury it?" I asked a bit panicky. Instead bf tried to pick it up with some wire but couldn't so he just picked it up with two fingers and threw it in the nearest dumpster.

Oh, dear. I felt a bit sick. I suppose the dumpster was a bit better than rotting in the alleyway for all to see but I still felt a bit upset about it lying next to all that crap. Was worried about bf actually touching it but he went to wash his hands. That poor pigeon. But honestly, what could I have done? Taken it to a vet? Who does that?

Still. I can't get the image of that bird going round in sad half-circles as if dazed from a knock on the head. I think I need a holiday.