We have two cats. Two fat cats who love to eat birds. I figured that unless I did something, in a few hours this bird would be dead. So, I made a cardboard bird box and captured the little fella again. As I held him in my hand I had the strangest feeling. Then, for some unknown reason, I said a prayer. I asked God to take care of the bird.
I then put him in the box and left.
My Grandmother turned up about an hour later. I was on MSN at the time and made some comment about a Christian invasion. She'd convinced one of her friends to drive her over to see us. I escaped outside, using the excuse of checking on the bird, whilst my mother explained what had happened. The woman with my Gran said that her brother ran a bird sanctuary. She called her brother and he said he'd collect the bird in 30 minutes.
He did. He said its leg was broken and so it couldn't push itself off from the ground; no lift, no flight. He said he could easily fix it. He fed and watered the bird before he left and that was it. The bird was taken away to be cared for.
Care for the bird. That's what I asked for. That's what happened. Albeit in a roundabout way.
I'm asking for a soft top Saab next. Midnight blue with a cream leather interior. See, levity is good... It means I don't have to think, or ask questions about what actually happened.