Christian tradition holds the dove in high esteem
because of its prominence in the Old and New Testament. Specifically because it
was chosen by God to be a symbol of the Holy Ghost or Spirit and was the sign
of divine approval at the baptism of Jesus by John the Baptist.
White doves are a sign of peace and are released at
ceremonies denoting love and brotherhood. It is for these reasons that I’m
pretty sure somewhere on St. Peter’s list outside the Pearly Gates my name has
a big black line through it.
How did I get to this terrible state of being?
When my oldest son David was about two years old my
husband Buns came home from a trip to Texas with a pair of white doves. His parents bred exotic birds
and he thought it would be a good idea
to bring these beautiful birds into our humble home so that they could continue
to procreate and replenish the earth in our guest bedroom.
In my usually supportive way I welcomed the newest
members of our family with moaning about having to clean out a filthy bird cage
and groaning about having to feed the little darlings all the time. Since we
lived 2000 miles away from my in-laws at the time there was little to no
possibility of returning the pair to their previous
owners.
About three days after they arrived, David came
walking into the living room holding the female he had named Dove. He toddled
over with his adorable chubby little cheeks to show me how much Dove “liked” to
be hugged.
I noticed immediately that Dove’s head seemed to be
hanging off at a weird angle for someone who was enjoying the love and
attention of a little boy. As Dave continued to tell me how much he loved Dove,
in horror I became aware that he had managed to hug her to death.
“Uhhhh, let me see her for a minute will you?” I
asked in shrill voice. “I’m going to put her down for a nap.”
After that, any time he asked where Dove was I
would just say in a slightly crazed way “she’s sleeping, yeah, that’s right she’s
sleeping.” It was at that point that I first developed what would be a lifelong
eye twitch that would kick in whenever doves were mentioned.
Dove Dove, the widower of Dove was moved to a
secure location on top of a high shelf where it would be much more difficult to
be reached by a curious toddler. Dove Dove made it clear immediately that he
did not appreciate being deprived of his mate. I’m convinced he had a nervous
breakdown. He would sit in his cage rocking wildly on his swing and laughing
like a maniac.
In case you were unaware, when a white dove is
being aggressive they laugh like a killer doll in one of those ridiculous
horror movies. It is completely unnerving. For the longest time I didn’t know
it was Dove Dove making the noise, I was beginning to think that our apartment was haunted by the ghost of a child comedian.
<eye twitch> I began to feel the nervous breakdown making it's way from
Dove Dove towards me.
Dove Dove also turned out to be the Harry Houdini
of the bird world. No matter what I would do to the latch on his cage he would
figure out a way to get out. I seriously think he was using that long slender
beak to pick the lock. He would loose himself and then spend whatever time he
could pooping on the living room furniture.
One day when I left to go shopping he once again
got out of his cage. Unfortunately on that particular jail break he came face to face with
our mostly outdoor cat who had sauntered in to recover from a night of
carousing. The cat who was notorious for harassing the birds outside decided
this was a gift strait from heaven. He proceeded to give Dove Dove the what
for.
I returned home laden like pack horse with grocery bags, diaper bag, and two
year old all in my arms to find the cat sitting on top of Dove Dove. All of the bags and nearly the two-year-old, went flying up into the
air as I raced towards the cat. He took off at light speed and I was left nose
to beak with poor Dove Dove there on the floor.
He was not in good shape and after a consultation
with Buns and a call to the vet it was decided that there was only one thing to
be done. We called my brother who is an expert shot and that brother took Dove
Dove out back.
I cried like it was the end of Old Yeller out
there.
All in all I had been involved not once but twice
in the inglorious death of a dove of peace. I was sure that the first offense
may have been passed over as forgivable but the second was just not going to
fly, or so to speak.
Since that time our family has religiously kept a
bird feeder in our yard. The kids like to watch the birds but I mostly keep it
up in the hope that somehow it will make up a little bit for the “Dove episode.”
The thought is that hopefully if I feed the neighborhood doves for the
rest of my life that will have a little sway when I get to the other side but
somehow I think it may all be for the birds. <eye twitch,
eye twitch>
Cheers,
Brenda
Oh my. I must give serious consideration to our friendship. I had noticed the eye twitch and wondered.
ReplyDeleteI disagree with the folks who say birds are good pets. They are loud and stinky and belong outside, hanging out on the powerlines perfecting their aim on innocent passersby and parked cars. That said, I laughed and laughed whilst reading your post.
ReplyDelete