Hummingbird

mmIt was early morning and the sprinklers had just begun glitter-bombing the backyard. I was curled up on the couch with sleep still nested in the corner of my eyes, scrawling out my “morning pages.” Iggy, my calico girl, purred contentedly on one side of me, a steamy cup of freshly brewed coffee sat on the other.

Halfway through my writing, a loud THUNK startled me out of my reverie.

Iggy and I exchanged surprised looks and she joined me as I got up to inspect the patio ground for any possible stunned bird carcasses. The sound came from the French door window, so it stood to reason that one of our feathered friends could have taken a bad turn.

All was clear, or so I thought. As I began sitting down to resume my morning task, I could see from the corner of my eye, Iggy skulking back into the house with something tiny and limp in her mouth. Apparently in the stunned-bird-carcass-inspection department, she was superior to me in every way. But the involuntary scream that left my throat, stopped her in mid triumphant trot and caused her to

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