… and open doors

Readers might recall that the column was absent for a while last year because I had a fall and broke bits of me.

Well, I nearly broke myself again this morning. As I ask myself – who? left the back door open?

A magpie flew into the house, then swooped up and down the room screaming with the dogs chasing it, before colliding with the bookcase and falling down on the floor behind the couch.

Lucky for me, Pinky dog, the fastest mover and killer of possums, was outside, but I still wound up on my knees, in the narrow space between the couch and the wall, up to my nose in would be killer dogs.

Elizabeth JR made a grab at it and I shoved her to one side, my recently healed wrist yelled ouch but I soldiered on.

I was, at the same time, yelling to my husband for help… why I don’t know, as he of the walking frame, bare feet and pyjamas would be slow and totally useless – but I suppose it was a reflex action.

He did appear and merely added to the din with his shouting – at least he wasn’t naked.

I grabbed the bird and got pecked, I didn’t care, it didn’t matter, at least I had it safe.

I pushed the dogs away and carried it out to the side gate, to make sure it could still fly and, thank goodness it could.

But my right wrist was screaming and the shoulder was protesting…

Why would the idiot fly inside!  Bloody Maggies!

My husband was pleased with the results of his encouragement… Whether to me or the dogs I’m not sure. He headed back for a shower and to get dressed.

I slammed the door shut, made a coffee as I wondered if it was too early for something stronger… and collapsed on the couch.

Damn birds.. and open doors…