Bird in the Bed.

by Michael Trifilo
(Provincetown, MA, USA.)

It is just after 6 am. I am normally a very heavy sleeper and would usually still be snoring away for several hours on a Saturday morning. However, my 1 & 1/2 year old orange tiger cat, Dexter just brought a little present directly into my bed. A barely deceased, tiny black & white birdie.

I decided to let him roam outdoors about 6 mos. ago when I moved into a new apartment located very far from the street, looking out onto a field where he could roam safely and enjoy the freedom and space that my tiny new studio could never provide. He is neutered and has had all his shots.

I weighed the pros and cons of this decision and came to the conclusion that his quality of life would be better this way. So, don't start with the finger-wagging, please.

About a week ago he brought me his first "trophy"; a mostly devoured carcass of another bird. At the time, I thought it was pretty cool that my little guy was growing up and learning how to hunt for himself. I praised him and quickly tossed out the remains. But this morning was quite less cool. I could just tell by the way that he was jumping around the foot of the bed that something wasn't right. He never enjoys playing with his own toys quite so enthusiastically unless they're doused in catnip and just out of the packaging.

I listened to him roll around and pounce for a little bit and finally, somewhat frightened by what I might discover, decided to reach up and turn on the light over my bed. Something in my sleepy, semi-conscious brain already knew what I was going to find. There, in the middle of my $200, ultra-suede, chocolate brown duvet cover was the little bird.

It almost looked like it was sleeping, wings curled up around it's body and eyes shut up tight, and surrounded by countless gray and white feathers. Dexter proudly looking up at me, was also covered with the same feathery bits, some actually dangling from his mouth. As I looked down from the bed, I noticed that these same feathers were not only on my comforter, but also ALL over the one room studio that I occupy.

Currently, Dexter and the bird are locked outside, since he refuses to stop bringing it back indoors while I futily try to vacuum up the feathers. I doubt I'll be getting back to sleep soon.