The Dog, The Bird, and The Broomstick.

As many of you with younger siblings may experience, there is a sort of joy in the family as the last one of you gets ready to decide on a career path and pick a University so they can move far far away from the rest of you and your stupid problems. My sister had reached this crossroads, and as far and I could tell was elated to get on with her life. We were sitting at the kitchen table going through her University guide trying to decide what schools she may want to look at; (By we I mean she was trying to do homework and I was feverishly flipping through page upon page of University statistics with an interest I often only reserve for online shopping). I had decided she wanted to attend a school with a heavy football focus, mostly because I adore football and huge athletic football players. Also, she was interested in education and I was fairly certain one could do that anywhere with ease, much like catching a cold and just about as interesting. While I was enthralled with the magazine my sibling had ventured to some other surroundings and I was left alone at the table to "watch the dogs".

Before I get ahead of myself I want to preface this by informing the reader that Platypus currently has in her possession 3 small wiener dogs, most of which were under the age of one. Being puppies they have a fair amount of useless energy and are bat shit insane. They are fascinated by everyone and everything they come into contact with and it can become rather tiresome for whomever my mother has put in charge of watching them. I often refer to them as "Pussycat" which Platypus fails to understand. I have no explanation for this abnormality other than it suits them and I have no desire to come up with a clever nickname for each individual dog. The smallest one of the bunch as luck would have it, is also the most destructive force nature has ever managed to put into such a small vessel. She is most certainly NOT the small package good things come in. Her sister, or "littermate" as you fruity dog fanatics would say, I had deemed "The Linebacker". The Linebacker is mammoth for what is suppose to be a "miniature" breed. I maintain her rambunctiousness and large stature come from consuming her other siblings in the womb and gaining all their puppy powers. Never the less, she is the most happy wiener dog I had ever interacted with and I love her despite the hostility I know her breed happens to have towards me. The third one is kind of a bit of an emo. He is smaller than both his sisters and is frankly a bit of a suck. He and Platypus have formed a somewhat parasitic relationship since she acquired him a few years ago. I only term it as parasitic at all mostly because they feed off one another and she is required to pick up his poop. Pretty parasitic if you ask me. But, back to the main plot of the story....

It was a surprisingly sunny day for my location, I say surprising only because in living here I have learned that any day you don't wake up to the worst weather of your life it's a damn shocker. I had my back turned to the "kids" as Platypus refers to them, and was deeply involved in reading about Acadia University's championship football team and desperately wanted to get my hands on a roster with full color photos and statistics for my bedroom. Needless to say, I was not providing adequate supervision for the little dogs, and was about to regret my decision.

The sibling had reappeared and was thumping around trying to get her shit together so she could return to school. She came out of the laundry room and was laser focused on my activities at the kitchen table when all the sudden I heard her scream violently. I jerked my head and saw her skidding around something on the floor. Much more interested in the jock meeting potential that lay in front of me, I ignored her cry's for help and went back to the magazine. A chorus of "EWWWWWW GROSSSS!!!" suddenly popped up in the background and I heard Platypus start to freak out. Still in my seat I was completely aloof to what was going on to say the least. I often have these moments with my family where something important is going on and I am either misinformed or have no fucking clue what is happening so I nod and ask open ended questions a lot. My sibling was in such a state of apparent shock that she could not provide me with sufficient answers to what was happening 12 feet from my person. All the sudden Platypus came to the rescue, " OH MY GOD HOW DID A DEAD BIRD GET IN THE HOUSE?! OH MY GOD!! HOW COULD YOU LET THIS HAPPEN??? YOU LET THEM DRAG A DEAD BIRD INTO THE HOUSE??". Even after being provided with this information, I am so deep in la-la land that I am still confused as to the implications of this little scenario.

I would once again like to pull the reader aside and explain my family's thoughts on me. As far as my family is concerned I am completely fucking useless and don't really have any skills they deem sufficient. I am allegedly ill-equipped to do anything that even remotely resembles manual labor due to my lack of upper body strength, and defs not capable of dealing with any sort of dead animal due to the fact that I have an $80 manicure and a $200 haircut. Apparently because of my desire to maintain a pleasing outward appearance I am completely unqualified to do anything that may be classified as "outdoorsy". I would now like to state that Platypus has both a manicure and an obscenely expensive haircut, both traits for which I decline to judge her seeing as it is her right as a woman to be well groomed. Additionally, I would like to state that despite my family being horrifically misinformed I am in fact capable of doing basic plumbing and repair work, as well as engine diagnostics. However, due to their lack of desire to accept this information and the satisfaction they gain from stereotyping me, I allow them to continue on their train of thought and offer to stay out of any sort of activity with a male centered skill set they may be embarking on.

Now back to my sister and Platypus screaming like a bunch of sorority girls who just saw their first penis. Due to the fact that my delightful reading surroundings had been reduced to a state of utter pandemonium I was forced to get up from my seat and go investigate. Upon viewing the deceased animal I, although actually not terribly concerned, decided to scream as well in an attempt to bond with my kinfolk. We then all gathered in the kitchen to decide a plan of attack. Platypus then informs me that I am to take care of the creature and return it to its natural habitat. " Um, and WHY might I do that Platypus?, you're our mother! Genetics programs you to want to protect us from harm, and in this case, an excellent way to get Bird Flu". At risk of further solidifying my place in the family as the useless priss, I suited up in some rubber gloves and gathered a plastic bag. " GO GET THE TONGS FROM THE FIREPIT!" Platypus instructed me, " WE CAN USE THEM TO SCOOP IT UP". I'm not sure what it was I returned with but it was clearly the WRONG utensil, as Platypus and my sibling proceeded to scream and tell me I was mentally retarded. I have an I.Q of 147, this is defs not a possibility, however this information is lost on my comrades. I came back with a different, and correct, tool and proceeded to psych myself up for battle. I remember recalling the phrase "GET READY TO BRING THE RAIN!!" from Transformers, but I cannot recall now if I said it out loud or not. I like to say it in accompaniment with a sort of "round up the troops" finger twirl whenever a tense situation arises. I find it helps get me in the moment.

I approach the deceased with my weapons and ready Platypus with the plastic bag. Then, I make contact and somehow manage to convince myself that something I had previously believed to be dead had now moved, and was arguably a zombie. I screamed my head off and proceeded to run in panicked circles on the deck in an attempt to calm my nerves. ( It is at this juncture that I notice the roofers who were working on the roof across the way laughing their asses off at our current problem. I bet if they were in a situation where they were afraid for their fucking lives, and a possible death involving bird flu, they would not have been laughing). I eventually find my center and return to the living room where I manage to wrangle the deceased into the bag and instruct Platypus to dispose of the evidence.

Upon ridding the house of the bird, Platypus and my sibling return to the kitchen where I am sitting ready to lecture them on my valiant effort in the face of danger, and proceed to call them pussys. " What is wrong with you? why weren't you watching them?!" inquires my sibling, " Well, Asshole, it hadn't occurred to me in all honesty that they were capable of fetching a bird from the fucking sky and dragging it into the house. Their badger dogs, they hunt on the ground! Read a fucking book sometime". Still jazzed from my brush with death I felt yelling was an excellent way to make my point. "It hit the window dumbass, then the dog dragged it in here!"... " Um...No. Their small dogs reject, they can't carry a bird!" I cried. It was at this exact moment I knew things between the small dog and I were about to change big time. Just as I finish my speech she shows up in the doorway dragging behind her another fucking bird. Needless to say, I was pissed that she would be so inconsiderate as to bring this up during my rant. Platypus flipped out and proceeded to shoo the dog outside and debate what to do with the remaining birds, a plan which at its core was to leave them for my stepfather to deal with. This was what Platypus termed, a " Blue job" and she was over it. At this point, I decided it was time to return home and get in a shower pronto since I reeked of sweat and dead animal and my life was clearly NOT together.