My baby boy, Oscar (my dog), accidently murdered a bird last night. My husband and Oscar were outside playing when Oscar stumbled upon two birds in the grass. When the birds took off, Oscar jumped up and caught one (you should see him catch flies--it's very Karate Kid).
I heard my husband yelling, so I looked out the window and saw Oscar prancing around the yard with this poor bird in his mouth. My husband finally managed to free the bird, but Oscar had done some major damage. I yelled out the window and asked if the bird was dead. Of course, unfortunately, it wasn't quite dead.
I came out of the house, in my PJs and with a baseball bat in hand, so that I could put the bird out of its misery. The poor little thing--I don't know how it was clinging to life. My huband had picked up a large log that he thought he could use to end things, and I had originally chosen the bat, but after a quick conversation, we settled on something that I believe was the most humane. As I mentioned in previous posts, this is one of my job's transferable skills.
Just as everything was coming to the final climax, our neighbor walks out and starts talking to us. You can picture it: my husband in his suit and tie with a large log and me in my PJs with a baseball bat crouching over something in our yard. We tried to play it off like nothing was happenning, but we really looked like two crazy people. On top of everything, my husband's hand and my ankle are still all messed up so it probably looks like we have started our own domestic-abuse-fight club. Needless to say, I'm pretty sure we now have another neighbor who definitely will never talk to us again.
In the end, everything was taken care of. I washed Oscar's face because I was afraid he had picked up lice or fleas from the bird (birds are so dirty). Poor Oscar knew something was wrong; he just sat there in his "I'm sorry" kind of way, with his little ears drawn back and his eyes all sad. I think we are going to have to clear the yard of all small animals before we let him out, from now on. Who would have thought that a 15lb Boston Terrier could be a killing machine?