No News Is Good News. (In other words - Do-Gooders need to mind their own business.) (Buddy the Blasted Bird, Part 3)

I thought I was safe.  I thought all was well in the world.  I was surrounded by my family, enjoying a weekend home.

And then Heather sidled up to me at the sink as I rinsed my breakfast dishes and murmured quietly, "I got a text last night.  Somebody found Buddy."

I slowly turned my head and swiveled my eyes to her face.  She was trying to keep a grin subdued.  I searched her huge brown eyes.  "You're kidding."

"No."  She told me how it came about.  She happened to mention at the neighborhood meeting on Thursday that we had lost our bird.  Then one of the ladies had a neighbor contact her saying someone found a cockatiel and had published it on some neighborhood email thing, and that neighbor contacted this other neighbor who contacted Heather.

I leaned my hands against the sink.  "We're not going to pick him up!"

She looked at me, and I knew the answer before she spoke.

She picked him up the night following our return from Rolla.

I know the good and proper thing to say when a beloved pet returns to the family is, "How sweet.  What a miracle it was he survived and someone found him and we were able to get him back!" but I cannot.

What I can say is, Buddy had no business surviving 30+ mph gusts of winds and a thunder and rain storm.

Buddy had no right to be carried ten solid miles only to be set down in some friendly person's yard and not in the lake (I mean, TEN MILES?  And how hard is it to miss a lake??)

Buddy didn't deserve to not be eaten by the three barn cats and two bird dogs belonging to the household where he was found.

Seriously, though, what are the chances?  I'd much rather have heard, "Someone found Buddy, but their cat got to him first."

...Right...well...

At least the rain cleaned him.  He's not as dirty now, and you can see definition in his feathers.

Speaking of feathers, Lane accidentally stepped on him tonight, so there are feathers all over the bedroom floor.  That's pretty funny.

Also, for the record, Buddy has since taken to going outside to hang out in the sun, and I just want to say - Heather was right all along.  He doesn't try to fly away at all.

I wish he would.