Spoiler
Got home late. Two hours left to do Twelve hours of work.
Start working on project. Incomprehensible.
Knock on the door. Neighbor complaining about dog.

"Barks all night." He said. "Work 16 hours, I do."

Me too.

"He's just here for a bit. Until we find a home."

"It's been two weeks."

I know.

He leaves. Unsatisfied. I text Mom for advice.

"Bring him inside, I guess. Use the crate."

Sure. Later. I have work to do.

Get up. Take a break. Look out the back door.

There's a bird. Fledgling? Ugly. Long beak. Can't fly. Not hurt (that I see). Hopping on a metal grate outside of our back yard gate. Next to our back door.

I go back to work. Learning teaching acronyms. Convoluted.

My sister and nephew are here. Just them and me. I get a call.

Noodly.

She's sweet. Wants to see a movie. Too much work and no time though. She'll drive by anyway.

She arrives. I meet her outside. A quick hello. Kisses, hugs, a quick goodbye. (her movie starts soon). She drives off. I turn to go back inside.

A dog is out. Little dachshund. Weiner dog. Stupid. Kind of a bully. Brown.

How did you get out? Is the neighbor doing something? I'm ready to fight.

Pick him up.

Wet? Ugh.

Open door. Let him run inside. Gotta sort this out.

There are three dogs. Dachshund. Chihuahua. Pit. Pit barks, only here temporarily. Belonged to another sister. Long story.

Chihuahua runs out next. Light Brown. Pacifist (unless you're new). Not wet. I carry him in.

One back door is shut. We have two. Wait...

Is that squawking?

Drop the Chihuahua. Go to laundry room. Dog crates are there.

Feathers on the floor. Squawks in a crate. Dachshund is so proud.

Dammit.

Pick up wet dog. Examine bird. Same bird. On back. Not squawking. Injured. Dead? Still Ugly.

Toss dog out of Laundry room. Leave the bird. Second back door is open. So is the gate. I go outside.

This isn't time to fight.

Sister is holding back Pit. Nephew (3) looks worried. I pick him up.

"I tried to let him out. Feed him. Water him." She said. Water bowl's knocked over.

"There's a bird in the house!" he says. Twice.

Okay. I make a trade. Hand boy to sister for dog.

"bird in dog crate. dead." I whisper.

She nods. Damage control. It's all about damage control.

I have the Pit. Brown. Jumpy. Friendly. Excited. Never bites. Often barks. Just needs attention. New home.

We can't give that.

Also, sharp claws. My arms have scratches.

I shut the gate. Go to the kennel. Grab the crate.

Dump water out of the crate. Drag it through the dark. (I just know there is poop out here).

Here's a riddle: Get a large crate through a gate with a hyper dog trying to escape.

Oh no wait. Two hyper dogs. Sister let Dachshund back outside. Why?

Oh right. Dead bird.

Solution: Dachshund escapes. Pit almost does. Pull crate out. Shut gate. Pit jumps barks. Jumps barks.

Drag large crate inside Laundry Room. Push dead bird's crate out of the way. Open crate. Open gate. Drag Pit. Shut crate. Pit barks. Can't jump.

Dachshund is inside again. They tend to come to the front. I put him in small crate. He's earned some confinement.

Chihuahua is outside again. Gate is shut. He's okay. No fuss.

"There's a bird in the house." Nephew repeats.

"No. It flew away." Sister lies.

I agree. Damage control.

I take the bird's crate. Still on it's back. No chirping. I go outside. Dump it in the trash.

Squawk.

Dammit.

I get a cup.

Maybe I killed it then. I wish it was already dead. I am not gonna nurse this thing to health. Ugly bird. Stupid dogs.

I tilt the trash out. Bird and rubble slide out. Bird squawks.

Wing at bad angle. Bloody at joint. It climbs in the cup. Face down.

Two ratty black wings with tiny feathers poke out at me. A little cute. Cups make things cute.

I take the bird for a walk.

"There are cats here." I say. "One will find you. Finish you off."

I am really hating cats right now.

I'd hate to have someone leave me injured, to die. Then lie about where I went. Can't think that about everything though. Gotta let that thought slip away.

I put the bird in a bush. Easy to find. Hard for my nephew to see. No blood on my hands.

It's in the cup.

I rinse out the cup and the crate. Feathers and blood slip away.

Chihuahua goes in the crate. Luxury suite. Extra room. Previous occupants not mentioned.

"The bird flew away!" Nephew chirps.

"Yeah probably found a home in a bush." I say.

"Did it fly away to heaven?" he asks.

"Did it?" I ask my sister.

"I didn't say." She replies.

"I suppose it might. If it flies far enough."

if that's where birds with broken wings fly.

"There was a bird in the house. The bird flew away. It flew to a bush. It flew to heaven."

"It's bedtime."

I sat down. Exahusted. Out of time. Started typing. Nephew sat with me.

He can't read yet.