I went downstairs, turned on the kettle for my first cup of tea, (on my days off I'll start my day with tea, if I'm working I'll have coffee), and turned to see my Kittie sort of pawing at my balcony door. It was strange because usually he greets me when I get up, and he wasn't paying me any mind at all.
So I went to see what was so interesting, and found this: a sweet little yellow bird dead on the balcony. It didn't have wounds, so I think he must have hit the window. I checked to see if maybe he was just knocked out, but sadly that was not the case.
So I took some photos for my own personal birdie memorial photos, and then placed him in a floral-print box from a Betsey Johnson watch, with some fabric and some bird seeds. I buried him in the yard, and marked his tiny grave with stones.
I don't know. It's a little death but it made me sad.
Goodnight sweet little birdie.
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poor birdie
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