My sister sent the note below yesterday morning. It’s hysterical, so I figured I’d share. Background: C. lives in Hawaii (Hello H.U.R.T?). Her husband is deployed again and she has two little girls. She bought them a parakeet when my brother in-law deployed this time to distract them from the ordeal. E. named the bird Blue.
From C: In one of those “I only turned around for a second” moments, Blue the parakeet bit the dust. The birds were out. The kids opened the door when a friend knocked. Blue fluttered outside and, in an instant, (seriously, only seconds had passed) a cat leapt out of the bushes and onto Blue and he was never seen again. Just a few blue feathers on the spot he disapeared from. We searched and searched but couldn’t find a trace of him. Not even a feather trail. E. saw the cat run from the scene of the attack to the sewer. We staked out the cat for a while. He was most likely eating Blue in the sewer. The cat emerged about half an hour later. No Blue. Anyway, we hope Blue’s dead and not wandering around in the sewer half alive. I’m considering telling the cat’s owners that their cat murdered my kids’ “Don’t miss your Dad” parakeet in our front yard, — in front of their eyes. If a dog attacked a neighbors pet they’d be put down – I’m just saying . . .
On this side of the Pacific, I’m about to work out the week’s running/stretching/core/8-hours-of-sleep/parents-coming-to-visit-gotta-CLEAN schedule. It worked really well last week to try to plan things out hour for hour. Sounds anal, but it helps me set realistic expectations. And I’m really trying to give 100% to my next race — to see what I can do. And 100% isn’t possible for me unless I plan it. And I love the planning, so it’ll be a relaxing evening here in my tiny room at the Extended Stay.