Friday, September 25, 2009

Lucy is furious with me. I have to remove soiled towels from her cage immediately (runs around five or six or seven or eight daily) and medicate her twice a day.

I am now wearing a pair of knit gloves inside a pair of leather gloves to handle her for the efforts. She sharpens her beak nightly.

It was coming.

Kiddo, I didn't throw you against the wall or slam you to the ground. It was an accident.

Now I know how my mother felt when I came home after being hit by a car (that, slick as a snake, I ran in front of).

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