It’s official: I’m going to hell

It’s official: I’m going to hell

So I was shampooing the carpet in the living room this evening. Bubba was in the bathroom. The Princess and O’Baby were downstairs getting him ready for bed. The dogs were outside. The bird was on top of her cage, eating cereal.

Or so I thought.

I backed up while shampooing the carpet and stepped on something that went “SQUAK!” There were feathers everywhere, and there was Weet, limping around on the floor behind me.

God help me, I stepped on the bird.

I scooped her up, but she jumped off my hand because her foot hurt. I scooped her up again and quickly put her back in her cage.

I rushed around picking up all the feathers before Bubba got out of the bathroom. What would he say? He’ll kill me! Oh my God! I hope she’s okay. I hope I didn’t kill her. All she wanted was to sit on my shoulder while I run the shampooer, just like always. That poor thing!

She was favoring her left leg. She had only on tiny feather left on her tail. There was a spot of blood on the cage. I called my friend Maria, who has nine birds and is an expert.

She asked me lots of questions, told me to watch the bird for a while and call her in an hour with an update.

In the meantime, I finished shampooing the rug (who am I?), taking frequent breaks to speak words of love to the bird. She kept limping around, but responded to my voice. Eventually she stopped limping.

I called Maria with the update, and she reassured me that the bird would be okay, she was just a little shocked. Maria also told me it was good that the bird wasn’t pooping blood. Jeez.

Bubba was concerned, but soon turned to his DS for comfort. The Princess, surprisingly, felt very bad and was worried about the poor bird. I thought she hated her. I guess not.

Anyway, let’s hope poor Weet is alive in the morning. Or I just won’t be able to live with myself.

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