The other day I walked into my parents' house, and for the first time in 13 years, I was not greeted by a playful bark, a wagging tail, and a joyful mass of golden fur pressing against my legs. That’s when it really hit me. Cody is gone.
Cody was my parents’ dog, a Golden Retriever/Chow Chow mix, and he was beautiful. Long, soft golden hair, with curls around the ears, and a purple spotted tongue usually hanging out of his smiling mouth. He was exactly the type of dog you imagine when you want to get a dog. Loyal, loving, playful, chill, obedient, handsome, sweet, friendly, fluffy. A perfect companion.
He was the first dog my parents got after I moved out, so I never lived with him, but he always made their house feel like it was still home. Soon after they got him, it was like he had always been a part of our family. He would get so excited when I visited, rushing to the door and positioning himself between my legs so I would rub his head and butt at the same time.
Last year, he was diagnosed with cancer. I was sure he was going to die, because it was 2020 and nothing good could possibly happen. I was preparing for the heartbreak, but I was really more concerned about my parents, especially my Dad. With the pandemic, my mom in a wheelchair and suffering from Parkinson’s, and a cold winter setting in, this was the last thing he needed. It was too cruel. But my dad didn’t give up, and neither did Cody. He underwent treatment for the cancer, and although it wasn’t easy—he lost some weight, he coughed stuff up—he made it.
It took a lot out of him, though, and he was almost 14 years old. His hind legs had been bothering him for a while, and by mid-May, they had completely given out. He couldn’t walk. He deserved comfort and peace. It was time to let him go. So my Dad, merciful as always, brought him to the vet and let him transition.
My family always had great dogs. Ramses, a Golden Retriever, died a couple years after I was born. All I remember is that he was a good boy. Tuffy, another Golden, was there for my entire childhood and helped shape who I am almost as much as my parents did. He was anything but “tuff”, by the way. A sweet, fluffy boy. A real good dog. We got Dakota soon after we moved to West Hartford, when I was living at home, going to high school, and my brother was away at college. I was in a new town, in a new school, by myself. And I was a teenager. It was a time of great change, and Dakota helped me through it. He was a giant white horse of a pooch who would chase deer all over the golf course. A handsome, independently minded, but needy and loving pooch. Another good boy. He was too much for his previous owners’ to handle, but perfect for us.
While we had Dakota, my parents raised a Fidelco guide dog for a year. Rachel was a good dog. It was an interesting experience because we had to (try to) maintain an emotional distance since she wasn’t staying long. That didn’t stop us from loving her. When she was done with training, she provided her services to an elderly woman with bad sight. After many years, Rachel retired, and she actually came back to live with my parents. Sadly, she passed away soon after. That entire experience taught me a lot about the process of fostering and doing something for the greater good. And it really made me admire my parents. Not many people are willing to sacrifice their time and efforts for others. Although, they did get all the benefits of a kind, loving dog for a year, so they made out pretty well, too.
Dakota and Rachel, before she started working.
Cody and Rachel, after her retirement, with Sophie, my brother's dog. She was a good girl, too.
Then there was Cody. The sweetest dog. He did more in his life than most people. Literally. My dad brought him to nursing homes to volunteer as a comfort dog. And of course, he worked as an unofficial comfort pet at home, helping to get my parents through some tough years. He was a constant presence, always by my Dad’s side.
Even on vacation in Florida.
At the beginning of this year, as the fear of Cody dying from cancer started to subside, we were blindsided by the sudden sickness and death of our kitty, Nola. It was devastating. She was only 11 months old, but the impact she made on our lives was immeasurable. Not having any other pets to comfort us only made it worse. Thankfully, Cody was there whenever I visited my parents, or when they visited us. It was almost as if he stayed around to get my parents though the winter and to help me through Nola’s death. Even in the short moments I saw him, he brought such great comfort.
We also took some comfort in remembering the two encounters between Cody and Nola. He was the one dog she ever met, and no surprise, Cody was great with her. He let her get close and sniff, and he didn’t even mind when she stalked the floor by my mom, looking for scraps of food. Nola had never met any other animals, and very few people, but she met Cody, the best the world had to offer.
One of my favorite pics. Their first meeting, during our Christmas celebration at our new house.
It’s hard to believe that Cody and Nola are both gone. I don’t believe in an afterlife so I won't say, “they’re playing together in Heaven now,” or something like that. I have nothing against people who say or believe that. I wish I could believe it! It’s just not how I view the world, or how I envision death. But Cody and Nola will always be connected in my memories, and even though it is heartbreaking that they are only memories now, I’m happy they are together in my mind and in my heart.
Cody also met our new kitties, Zoli and Bijoux. I'd like to think there was some kind of transference of energy from Nola to Cody to them. Like, she met him, then he met them, and there was aconnection established through Cody, as if he was a conduit of life that let her spirit continue on in them. I'd like to think that. That's my vision of the afterlife.
Cody also met our dragon, Puff! And guess what? He was great with him, and the kitties, too. Because Cody was great with everybody, and everything. Old people, kids, other animals. He was just a real good boy.
Aeris is a short film I recently watched from 2018. It is excellent...and it broke me.
Less than 3 months ago, our precious kitten Nola passed away. My girlfriend and I were devastated. We still are. Our sweet Nola succumbed to Feline Infectious Peritonitis (FIP) a rare, fatal disease with no cure that almost exclusively affects kittens. It’s actually caused by a feline coronavirus. Yeah. Fucking coronavirus. I read a lot about the disease after her diagnosis, and continued to read about it after her death. It was so cruel it didn’t seem real. This disease we had never heard of, which affects less than 1 in 5000 cats, stole our baby’s life.
At some point in my reading, I learned of a short film about a young couple and their kitten with FIP. As I read the description of the film, I knew it would be heartbreaking to watch. I also knew I had to watch it. I told my girlfriend about it, and after putting it off for a while, we watched it the other day.
I was right. It was heartbreaking. But I was also right that we needed to watch it, and I’m glad we did.
A young man buys a kitten from a small pet store. “The runt of the litter,” the sketchy lady who owns the store tells him. He buys it as a gift for his girlfriend, who is allergic to cats. She is upset when she comes home and sees the kitten. He assures her it is hypoallergenic. Soon, she falls in love with the kitten. They both do. They name it Aeris. It’s a cute white cat with some grey marks. It’s lovable and playful, but doesn’t eat much. Then it has some accidents on the bed. They take it to the vet. The vet feels its belly and becomes concerned. She draws fluid from its belly. The fluid is yellow. The vet says she is worried that the kitten has FIP. She says the only treatment is euthanasia.
They can’t believe it. How could this be? She must be wrong. But the cat is definitely sick. The guy goes to the pet store and yells at the owner, who swears she’d never sell a sick kitten. They take the kitten to another vet, who tells them the first vet could’ve made a mistake. Maybe she drew fluid from its bladder and not its stomach. The fluid was probably just urine, he tells them. The cat seems happy, so everything’s probably fine. They are reassured. Hopeful.
But the kitten is still not eating. It’s lethargic. The young woman learns about some homeopathic treatment and tries it out. The kitten seems to respond positively.
But not for long. One morning the guy wakes up to hear the kitten meowing oddly. He finds it under the bed having a seizure. They freak out and rush to the vet, the one who said the cat was fine. He realizes the cat is most definitely not fine. Its organs are shutting down. It likely has FIP. The only option...euthanasia. They put their kitten down.
It’s a simple yet heartbreaking story, and although I cried through the whole thing, I also found it somewhat comforting. Besides a few different details, it basically depicted the exact experience that my girlfriend and I went through. We brought our kitten to the vet, thinking a little medicine or something would be all it needed. Our vet told us it was possible she had FIP, and that euthanasia might be the only option. We had never heard of FIP, and certainly never imagined losing our kitten before it turned a year old. She couldn’t have a fatal disease with no cure. Impossible.
The main difference between our stories is that in the movie, the kitten is sick from the first day, and it died 12 days after they got it. We had Nola for 9 months, and she was healthy for the vast majority of that time. One of the reasons FIP is so odious is that it can be in the system for months or even a couple years without any signs before turning fatal. I’m so thankful for that time, but that is partly why her illness was such a shock to us. She seemed fine for so long, and all of a sudden…she wasn’t. All because of a virus that she got months earlier, before we even met her.
Another big difference is that Aeris had fluid in her belly. Nola had fluid in her lungs. There are two types of FIP, wet or dry, both fatal. But they are more like two ends of the spectrum, because in some cases, a cat might have symptoms of both. The belly is more noticeable and often causes kittens to lose control of their bodily functions. The fluid in the chest obviously affects the breathing. But both types build up slowly, then reach a tipping point and get progressively worse very quickly. The symptoms start off vague, like eating and playing less, then become much more severe. It’s almost a good thing that the symptoms are not noticeable early on because early detection would not help treat it. So you would know the kitten is terminally ill for a longer period of time without being able to do anything about it. Looking back, we appreciate that we were blissfully ignorant of what was about to happen. She may have been sick for a month or more, but besides the last 10 days or so, she seemed like the healthiest, happiest cat in the world.
So it was a shock to us, and everything felt so surreal. I couldn’t even process what the vet told me when she mentioned “fatal disease” and “euthanasia.” For the rest of the night after that first vet visit, I was in a fog of disbelief and anger and fear.
Then, the next day, just like the couple in the movie, we had hope that our girl was going to be okay. At that point, it was still possible she had some other infection. Maybe it was just me trying to convince myself, but I was feeling positive. In the movie, they try homeopathic medicine to get the kitten to eat. We gave her the medicine from the vet to boost her appetite and treat her fever. We tried all different types of food and treats. She was lethargic and didn’t eat much, but there was no way she could be terminally ill. Something told me she would be fine.
After a few days, when she didn’t get any better and still didn’t eat, we looked into an experimental treatment for FIP. Our vet told us that this treatment has been showing “some promise” in curing FIP. But it is not FDA regulated or permitted for use by vets, and it’s only available on the black market. So there’s no way of knowing whether you’re getting what it claims to be or some knockoff. Plus, even if it is the real thing, it still has a very low success rate. Like, basically negligible. I researched it and even reached out to a group on Facebook. In my brief conversation with a representative of the group, it didn’t feel like they would be much help. They asked a bunch of questions and didn’t even mention the treatment. It felt more like a support group than a realistic solution. And our baby was starting to rapidly decline. There was no more hope.
When the girl uses the homeopathic medicine in the movie, it seems to have some positive effects. A part of me thought the kitten was going to make it, and that made me upset. I felt bad for being upset, but I couldn’t help it. For a moment, I thought this treatment would work, and the movie would turn into a commercial for this black market medicine. I got legitimately angry and worried. I felt like I was rooting for the kitten to die.
Grief is a fucked up thing, man.
Obviously, in real life I would want any cat to survive. But I couldn’t stand the thought of this fictional kitten surviving the same disease that killed our Nola.
Regardless, the medicine did not help Aeris. I was relieved, then immediately overcome with sadness. Now I desperately wanted this kitten to survive.
Seriously, grief is fucked up.
One thing we didn’t experience was the seizure. I really felt the characters’ heartache and concern and anxiety. In her final days, Nola was breathing hard, not eating, and clearly uncomfortable. We were so worried she would suffer a painful death, or something like a seizure. It was unbearable to even contemplate. Thankfully, when we brought her to the vet that final time and helped her transition, she seemed to be at peace. And unlike the couple in the movie, we had a couple days with her to say goodbye before we let her go. In some ways, I feel that made it harder; we got the extra time with her, but we knew her fate was sealed. Her imminent death was hanging over us. I’m still glad we got that extra time, though. It sucks either way, I suppose. Fuck FIP.
It was a traumatic experience and we’re still struggling with it. She was our baby, and we poured ourselves into loving and caring for her. And we felt so alone in dealing with this. We felt like the only people who had ever gone through it. So it was slightly reassuring to know that this is something that happens, and it happens to undeserving people and animals. It was not a bad dream. It was not a punishment. It was not a result of something we did wrong. It was simply a horrible disease that she most likely contracted from other kittens in the foster home that rescued her. Since we had never heard of FIP…and it’s so rare…and Nola was just a kitten…and she seemed so healthy throughout her life…it was impossible to accept. When we had to put her down, it was so hard to believe it was actually happening. But it did happen. As it happens to hundreds of other kittens and kitten parents.
It’s still fucking horrible, though.
We cremated Nola with her favorite blanket. Her ashes sit on our fireplace mantle in a small urn with one of my favorite pictures of her looking out at us. In the film, they bury Aeris at the girl’s parents’ farm. In the final scene, they are at the grave, crying and reminiscing. As the girl walks back towards the house, she sees a cat on the porch. A faint smile crosses her face. The movie ends.
Soon, we will pick up our new kitten. We are heartbroken, and we will always miss Nola. She will always be a part of us. It has been hard to even think about getting a new cat. We just want our Nola. But that’s not possible. We can’t go back. Time marches forward. Life goes on. Etc. etc. Moving forward is the only option, so we need to start a new journey with a new pet. We got a bearded dragon a month ago because we needed something to love and focus our attention on, but we weren’t ready for a cat. Puff has been great, and he’s helped us heal. Now, we are ready to love another kitten.
Well, not “read” exactly. But willing. It still hurts to think that the only reason we are getting this kitten is that we lost our baby. Na’s presence is still present, in our home and our hearts. It always will be, and we will always cherish her memory, but we can’t let the pain of her loss prevent us from being happy and loving another pet. To honor Nola and our experience with her, we are going to put that same amount of love and energy into caring for another kitten, another innocent little creature who needs us. Nola was so unique and amazing and nothing can replace her, but she showed us how much we love caring for a pet, and we want that again. We wish it was her, but it can’t be. So we have to believe that another kitten will bring a new, different-yet-equal love to our lives. This love doesn’t exist yet, so it’s hard to imagine. But our love for Nola didn’t exist before we got her, and eventually, it turned into a love that we couldn’t imagine life without.
It’s awful that this movie even had to exist, but I’m glad it does because I know that we are not alone in losing our beautiful baby to this awful disease. And after seeing what could have happened, I know that we did the right thing in letting her go before the pain really set in. We had to protect her, and we couldn’t bear her suffering any more.
I appreciate the filmmakers sharing their story. The film is based on the experience that the young man and woman in the film actually went through. As the guy said in an interview, despite her brief time with them Aeris quite literally changed their lives. He says that Aeris taught them how to love. My girlfriend and I feel similar about Nola. We had a deep love for each other before her, but she took that love to another level and showed us things about ourselves and each other that we would have never known otherwise. Her life, and her death, brought us closer together. It’s hard to explain what it was like going through this, but this film captures it well, and I’m grateful for that.
I also appreciate the vets who are upfront and honest, as difficult as that may be. I understand the urge to offer comfort and hope, but as pet owners, we deserve and need honesty more than anything. Don’t give me false hope, and don’t put an animal through pain and anguish just to make the owners feel better for a few days. As Kurt Vonnegut says, there are fates worse than death. As hard as it is to accept, sometimes death is a necessary release. We hated to let Nola go, but we are comforted by the fact that we helped to release her from her pain and transition to an eternal sleep, where she can rest peacefully in the sunbeams.
Sharon dropped her keys and purse onto the kitchen table, placing her hands palm down on either side.
"You're being ridiculous, Sharon. They're crows, for chris'sake."
"I know what they are, Daniel. Don't patronize me. I don't like the way they look at me."
"Ok, ok. I'll scare them off."
The man walked towards the door in the kitchen that led to the garage. He remembered storing an air-horn in a box somewhere in the garage a few years back. It was part of an elaborate prank that never came to fruition. Maybe he could finally put it to good use.
He found it surprisingly quick; apparently he was more organized than he gave himself credit for. That, or he just didn't own that much stuff.
With the air-horn in hand, he pressed the button to open the garage door, waited until it rose enough to let him walk under, and headed into the hazy light of the evening hours. He stopped halfway down his driveway and looked towards the large oak tree in his front yard. The sun was setting and darkness was washing over the skyline, but the crows were still visible in the canopy of the tree.
There had to be hundreds of them, rustling the leaves, jostling and jumping from limb to limb. When he was able to identify an individual bird, he was struck by the feeling of being watched, and he diverted his gaze as quickly as possible. He would not accept that his wife was right. She was being ridiculous.
And yet, walking towards the trunk, he could not bring his gaze skyward, instead deciding to inspect the grass in his yard. He really needed to fix the riding mower and take care of his lawn.
He stopped a few feet from the trunk of the oak tree. Lifting his right hand into the air, he pressed down on the air horn's trigger mechanism, releasing a piercing, shrill blast. Instantly, a cloud of black, fluttering wings and feathers filled the sky. For a second, Daniel thought he had begun the apocalypse.
The birds swarmed above his head for a few seconds, then took off in a tight formation, as if a dark rain cloud was drifting rapidly through the sky.
-
Bubula sat at the window and watched intently as the dark cloud of feathers floated away. Her eyes darted from one end of the cloud to the other. A small stream of saliva dripped from the corner of her mouth.
-
"Well, they're gone."
Daniel placed the air-horn on the kitchen table, took off his coat, and sat in his favorite chair. The old, worn down wooden chair that Sharon hated.
"What's for dinner?" he asked.
"Chicken."
Before the word left her mouth, the cat jumped on the kitchen table.
"Boobie! Off the table!" Sharon gently swept the feline away. The cat jumped off the kitchen table and onto the counter next to the fridge.
"Brat," Sharon said while walking to the fridge. She opened it, pulled out a small plate, then took off a small piece of fish and placed it on the counter near the loudly purring tabby.
As Sharon pet the cat and Daniel read the latest news on his smartphone, they heard a loud yet muffled sound, like a quickly passing rainstorm, outside the front windows. Daniel got up and pushed aside the curtains.
"Huh, that was odd. I don't see anything."
The cat had finished her snack and returned to her perch at the window. She stared at something outside, with her little black nose pressed against the glass.
"You see something, Boobie?" Daniel asked, his nose pressed against the glass, too.
"Did the birds come back?" Sharon asked.
"No, I don't see them anywhere," Daniel assured his wife.
"It was probably nothing. Let's eat. Come pour the milk, please."
-
"Daniel!"
His jolted awake. He gathered himself, threw off the covers, and put on his slippers.
"Daniel!"
He walked quickly downstairs to where his visibly shaken wife was standing in the front doorway.
"Come see this."
She turned and led him outside. His first thought was that it was a lovely day, sun shining, a crisp breeze in the air. His second thought was that it smelled like a dumpster behind a Long John Silver's. He looked to his wife, who was holding her nose with one hand and pointing towards the driveway with the other.
His new Audi and her beloved Lexus were completely, comprehensively, absolutely covered in white, black, and green streaks of bird excrement. A barely visible steam rose from the thick veneer of feces on the cars.
"Holy shit."
"Very funny I have to get to work in 15 minutes. I'm not driving around in that, and there's no way it's all coming off in 15 minutes. What am I supposed to do?"
"Ho-lee shit."
"Yes, I get it. Holy shit, haha. You really find this funny?"
"No, I..."
"This is disgusting, Daniel, and I have to get to work!"
He stood motionless, still staring at the stained vehicles. Finally, he told his wife:
"Call a cab. I'll clean them off."
"You have work in an hour."
"I'll call out. This is an emergency. This is an act of war, Sharon."
"Daniel, don't be so dramatic. It was probably that stupid air horn. You literally scared the shit out of them."
"Well that's a pretty specific target area to be a random fear-shit. No, those flying rats are sending a message."
"They're just crows, Daniel. I'll call a cab. Just please be sure to clean my entire car off. Maybe even take it to a professional."
"It'll be just fine. I don't need a professional. You know, I read somewhere that crows are some of the smartest animals in..."
"Hello?" she put her finger up towards her husband. "Sorry sweetie." She turned and walked inside. "Hi. I need a cab? Yes, as soon as possible."
Daniel continued to stare at the carnage in the driveway.
"Holy shit."
-
When Sharon left, Daniel headed to the garage. He first found the bin full of car wash supplies; still in the packaging, even though he bought them over 2 years ago.
After he opened the soap and sponges and towels, he searched for the hose. It was wrapped up in the corner with the 12-option nozzle he received from his father-in-law on his last birthday. He truly meant it when he told the old man he loved it, he just never had the chance to use it.
He attached the nozzle to the hose.
"Sweet."
Maybe this would do the trick on those damn crows, if they ever showed their beaks again, which he highly doubted. Daniel knew this was their coup de grace, a grand, gross finale.
Or not.
When he finally left the garage, after putting on his thigh high fisherman boots, rubber gloves, and safety goggles, the tree in his front yard was once again bustling with black wings and feathers, loud squeaks and whistles cascading back and forth among the green leaves.
He groaned and stomped over to the water spout on the side of his garage. He plugged the hose in, turned the handle, and headed towards the tree.
About ten feet away from the tree, he stopped. He held the hose in front of him with both hands, pointing it skyward toward the crows.
"Nevermore, assholes."
He lowered his hands.
"Wait, that was a raven. Is that the same as a crow? Which are these?"
He raised his hands again, with his finger on the trigger.
"Doesn't matter. All I know is...you're outta here!"
He pressed the trigger. A soft gentle mist sprayed out 5 feet in front of him, creating a rainbow.
"Shit." Daniel turned the nozzle on the hose to the strongest setting and tried again.
A harsh stream jet forth.
"Get out of here!" he screamed, aiming the water at the fluttering mass of wings in the tree branches.
There were some loud squeaks, and a few birds flew off their branches to a higher branch, but there wasn't the mass exodus Daniel was hoping for.
He moved closer. He spotted an individual crow (raven?) in a low hanging branch. He focused the stream on its beady little eyes.
The bird hopped around and turned its back to Daniel, water splashing off its wings. Daniel walked closer, keeping the stream on the back feathers.
He was standing almost directly under the bird, spraying its hind-parts, legs, anything visible, to no effect.
He stopped spraying.
"What the hell is up with you damn birds?"
The crow hopped around again and looked at Daniel. It seemed to be inspecting the man.
But that was ridiculous.
Daniel suddenly noticed the silence. He looked around at the rest of the tree. All the birds were eerily still, eyes fixated on the now very concerned man.
Daniel looked back towards the wet bird. For some reason, Daniel had deemed this the leader. It looked at Daniel and cocked its head, then let out three loud caws.
Daniel swore that he felt the black mass move before he saw it; or maybe he heard the hurricane-like rustling. Whichever sense was set off first, Daniel was turned around and sprinting towards his front door before he could fully process what was happening.
He could feel their presence at his back as he reached for the front door. He swung it open wildly, lunged inside, and slammed the door behind him.
-
An unnatural silence descended upon the house. Daniel slowly backed away towards the kitchen, keeping his eyes fixed on the small glass pane in the front door.
He didn't see or hear anything, but they were out there. He could feel it.
After a few minutes, he walked toward the large bay window. He looked around the front yard and up in the tree.
Nothing.
He kept scanning until finally he saw movement near the tree trunk. The curtains blocked the full view so he pushed them aside and pressed closer to the window.
"Boobie!"
The cat must have slipped out. But how? He opened the door for less than a second.
The cat circled the tree once, then jumped onto the trunk, hanging on with all four paws. Slowly, it made its way upwards. The cat climbed until Daniel could no longer see it through the leaves and branches.
He wanted to run out and coax it down, but even if his fear of the crows wasn't holding him back, he knew his efforts with the cat would be futile. It was a stubborn beast. He just hoped it knew what it was doing up there.
-
When she reached a section of the treetop where several branches intertwined, she finally stopped climbing. She stretched her body along one of the branches, pressing herself down as low as possible.
Then she waited. She was ready to wait for hours, maybe days. But she knew it wouldn't take that long. Her natural instincts had always been sharp, and she had an uncanny understanding of the flight and nesting patterns of all feathered food.
She waited over 30 minutes in that position. She was about to arch her back to stretch when she heard it. It was very faint, still a good distance away, but it was undeniable: the crows were coming home.
A stream of saliva dripped from the corner of her mouth.
-
The yellow cab pulled up to the driveway. The driver turned his radio down and checked his phone.
"237 Fontaine St.," he read from the screen.
He looked at the house.
"237," he read off the front door. "This is it." He pressed his hand down heavily on the horn five times, keeping the pressure on the horn longer and longer each time.
-
The cat looked down at the yellow metal beast making all the noise. If the birds were scared off, she'd know where to take out her fury.
-
"Ok," she said as she walked downstairs. Daniel was in his worn out chair, looking rather worn out himself. "That's the cab. I'll call you for a ride later."
He jumped out of his chair. "Wait!"
She looked back at him as she opened the front door. "What?"
"They...it's just..."
"What?"
"Nothing."
"Ok. Well, please get the cars clean. And clean off the driveway too. I don't want to have to step in it."
"Sure."
She walked outside.
-
The cat watched as the front door opened. The long brown haired human who always smelled like ham strolled out.
Humans always got in the way.
The fluttering, cawing, black cloud drew nearer.
-
The cab honked again, slowly and loudly.
-
She yelled from the front door, "All right! I'm right here! I see you, and you see me. Jesus."
As she strode toward the taxi, she heard what at first sounded like a small plane flying overheard. She turned to look towards the sky, and the sun was blocked out by a fluttering black mass.
"Daniel! I thought you got rid of..." Before she could finish, the cloud was swarming around her.
Crows flew by her head, brushing her face and hair with their dark wings.
"Gahhh get them off! Ahhhhhh"
-
Daniel watched in horror, from inside the house, as the cloud engulfed his screaming wife.
"This will not be good."
-
The cabbie took his hand off the horn to watch the scene unfolding in front of the house. He had never seen so many birds in one place. They were flying around the woman like a feathered tornado. Her screams made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.
This was not in the work manual.
He shifted into drive and sped off.
-
She watched as the human spun and swung her arms wildly. She felt genuine concern that the human would scare off the birds. The tasty, tasty birds.
She couldn't let that happen.
She knew she had to act fast, quickly crawling to a lower branch. A few crows were fluttering in and out of the lower branches, still more focused on the frantic human than finding a resting spot.
She spotted one crow perched on a low branch. She leaped down from one branch to another, then launched herself the last few feet, landing next to the unsuspecting bird. As the branch swayed downward with her weight, she looked into the crow's eyes. Before the terror could even register, she lunged forward and grabbed the bird's head with her teeth. Her momentum sent them off the branch, hurtling toward the ground.
They landed directly next to the human, the cat on all fours, with the bird's limp body hanging from its mouth, head hanging at its side.
She dropped the bird at the human's feet.
-
Sharon looked at the cat and the bloodied, broken bird on the ground, and let out a blood curdling scream, running towards the front door.
She didn't even notice that the black cloud had left.
-
Daniel watched his wife sprint towards the door. He opened it to let her in and moved to the side.
"Jesus! Jesus, Daniel did you see that?"
"No, what happened honey?"
"The birds! The damn birds! And then the cat! Look!"
They walked to the front bay window and peered out.
The cat sat in the front lawn. It looked at the couple for a few seconds, then went back to licking its blood stained paws.
-
The summer months came and went, with no more sign of the crows.
The body of the dead crow remained on the lawn. The head was nowhere to be found.
-
"Honey, I really don't want to see that dead bird every morning. Can you please do something with it?"
"Sweetie, we talked about this," he replied. "The dead crow is a warning, a reminder that this isn't a safe place for them."
"Do you honestly think that 's why they haven't come back?"
Daniel thought for a moment.
"Absolutely."
He sat on his favorite chair, where the cat was stretched out on the armrest.
"All thanks to this little girl, right?" He buried his face in the fur on her belly.
The cat purred and licked its paws.
Daniel noticed something hanging off the pad of the cat's right foot. He pulled it off. It was a small black feather.
He looked at the cat. The cat looked back at him.
Daniel could have sworn it winked at him before going back to licking its paws.
One of my favorite pics. Their first meeting, during our Christmas celebration at our new house. 
