It's Not My Fault...

I did something I hate today.

I killed a bird.

It wasn't my fault. The thing just swooped in like a Japanese Kamikaze fighter and landed smack dab on my grill before I even saw it. Why do birds do that? My theory is that they're getting lazier. No, I'm not kidding. There was a day when birds never swooped down on me like that. OK, they might drift into the windshield...but the grill?! Come on Tweety - get some air under those wings! And Dad would always tell us not to worry about birds in the road because they'll get out of the way before you hit them. HA! The ones around here anymore just stand there and stare you down...like they're DARING you to hit them! So either they're getting mighty lazy or mighty attitudy. Either way, they're gonna die if they don't knock it off!

Now compare them to the squirrels. See, I really feel bad when I hit the squirrels. Because they don't have the attitude. They are just schizophrenic. Seriously, have you ever watched a squirrel crossing the road? They can be running in a simple straight line...would be perfectly fine if they'd just keep going. But no...the minute they hear a car, what do they do? Stop. Stand up. Look panicked. Turn to run the other direction. No, that's no good. Turn the other way. No...stop....no...run faster...no...stop...turn around....stop...go..wait...go...nnnooooooo....JUST TAKE A BIG LEAP AND JUMP AS FAR AS YOU CAN!!!! By this time you've either given yourself whiplash trying to avoid them...or turned them into a little squirrel pancake. Neither option is very desirable.

Of course it's never good when you hit someone's family pet. Really...let's not even go there, as I still harbor very ill feelings for the people who killed our little dog Molly. Of course that could also be because they were driving a tour bus 80 miles an hour down a small residential street, and a little toy poodle stands very little chance against a tour bus going 80 miles an hour. Very little. Dumb people.

My personal worst though was the deer. See, they're most generally to blame for their own deaths too. I mean, we put up crossing signs for them at specific spots along the road, but do they ever cross there? NOOOO. Little renegades. Well, see what they get. It's lovely really...there's nothing like having a big brown, hoofed animal flying into your windshield. At 12 midnight. When you're all by yourself on a country road. I call the police, then call mom. I'm trying to tell her what happened, and I can hear dad in the background hollering "What happened, what happened??" So she's trying to tell him while I try to tell her...which, well you can imagine how that was going. Then I can hear dad switching over to "Tell her to lock her doors! Tell her to lock her doors! Does she have her doors locked? Tell her to lock her doors!". Finally I shout into the phone - "Mom - tell Dad I DO have my doors locked!" That must have been his biggest concern, because I didn't hear him again. He never asked if I was hurt...as long as I had taken care of the essential door locking. Ah, the things that weigh on a father's mind.

At one point in my life I was killing an animal every time I got into the car. It was weird...they just kept running out in front of me. And I kept hitting them. I'd go into work all droopy and tell them, "Well, I killed a (rabbit, bird, squirrel) again this morning. So one day I go in and they've taken the rabbit head from our Company's Easter Bunny costume and put it under one of the legs of my chair, and changed my screen saver to read "THUMP, THUMP".

HA HA - Very funny. Bunch of smart alecks.

So anyway...I do try to avoid them, but sometimes it just happens. So please beware all you little schizophrenic woodland creatures that may or may not have an attitude or are feeling lazy today and don't want to cross at the crossing sign like you're supposed too...

You're taking your life into your own hands!
(uh...I mean..paws. Or hooves. Or wings. Or...whatever....)