|
My husband is jealous of our dog. He’s been jealous of every dog we’ve owned. He was jealous of our first Samoyed, Zelda, who was named after F. Scott Fitzgerald’s wife. (I like to name our pets after literary figures.) He was jealous of the son-of-Zelda who was named after James Fennimore Cooper’s last Mohican, Uncas. Then there was our Scottish terrier, Duncan. He was named after my great uncle who helped Sam Walton of Wal-mart fame get his start. Uncle Duncan wasn’t really a literary figure but he was mentioned in Sam’s biography. And now he is jealous of our Airedale terrier, Scarlett, who is named after that Gone With the Wind gal.
My husband, who is a really nice guy, notices that I give lots of attention to our pets. I do adore animals, but I adore my husband too.
He always poses the question, “If I broke an arm and the dog broke a paw, who would you take to the doctor (or vet, in the dog’s case) first? That’s a silly question. You, of course, I tell him. He doesn’t seem to believe me.
That’s why when the mother robin chose to build her nest right outside our bathroom window I wasn’t surprised when he got jealous of her too.I didn’t really notice the birds until they were almost grown. Maybe it’s because teenage robins are really loud. Maybe it’s because in July our windows are usually shut and our air conditioner is on.
After I discovered them, I worried the noise from our hairdryer would upset the birds. I moved the hairdryer to the bedroom. I worried that turning the light on at night in the bathroom might scare the birds. I encouraged the use of another bathroom after sunset. I constantly peeked through the blinds and exclaimed what an honor it was to have Mrs. Robin and her brood so close to our home.
The bird family was so cute. Mom was constantly cramming juicy morsels of worms and berries into her children’s very open beaks. Such devotion. But I noticed Mom was starting to look really tired. And her babies were starting to look really big.
The last night they were snuggled in the nest together was July 4th. As our neighbors’ fireworks ripped across the sky, Mom nestled close with her babes. I wonder what they made of all the commotion?
By the next night everyone was gone. The nest was deserted. Like all good moms, she had raised her babies to be good and strong and to someday leave the nest.
I was inspired. My husband was relieved. During the whole experience there wasn’t one broken wing.
Posted in November, 2007
|
Sign Up!
Benefits
Newsletter
Member Bookshelves
Link to Us
Share
