jayden

While heating up dinner in the microwave this evening, I heard a scuffle in the living room, went in there to see what was up and my cat was in front of the fireplace, looking through the glass doors and yowling and batting at something inside. So I looked to see what was in the fireplace, and lo and behold, there was a little dove hopping around. It must have flown down the chimney and gotten stuck, and it was in a panic and flying and beating itself against the glass.
I had no idea what to do, so I cleared all the cats out of the house and opened the fireplace door, attempting to throw a towel over it and get it outside. It flew past me, hit the ceiling, and dropped down and banged against the wall and the thing that holds fireplace tools before I could cover it with the towel and pick it up and take it outside.
I set it down and took the towel off of it, expecting it to haul ass and fly away. But it didn't move, just sat there huddled up with it's eyes closed. It wasn't dead, but it certainly wasn't in very good shape.
I sat there holding it in my hands until it's little heart stopped beating and it's eyes closed for good. I wanted him to live so bad, it actually hurt.
It died because it was scared. It died because it was scared of me.
It makes me sad to see fragile, innocent creatures die. Especially when I'm probably at fault for it. I'm sure if I had done something different, it would be alive. But of course, since I have this wonderful tendancy to fuck everything up, it's now buried by my Mom's compost pile.

shitty.