NO good deed goes unpunished. That's what I was thinking as I shelled out 10 bucks to the lady at the Kaneohe veterinary center for the privilege of saving the scrawny feathered butt of a sickly lovebird that flew into my life, not to mention my kitchen, last weekend. Two birds in the
hand are too muchWhy my roost has become Lost Bird Central the past few months I don't know. Just before Christmas, another lost lovebird, about to be roughed up by a gang of wild finches, landed on my shoulder while I was standing on my deck.
We kept that bird, much to the chagrin of our dog, Boomer, who suddenly went from fourth to fifth on the family power grid. In the spirit of family harmony, we don't argue the specifics of who exactly holds the top two spots, but Boomer was clearly fourth behind my 10-year-old daughter.
Then the green bomber joined the team and quickly whupped Boomer, a dog who has many great traits, but, alas, high self-esteem not among them. Within days of entering the household, Sweety -- a name my daughter chose that would turn out to be on the ironic side -- landed on Boomer's back and rode him like a rodeo bull for more than the required eight seconds. In fact, Sweety remained firmly planted like a deranged pirate's parrot while the terrified dog lurched around the house like a demasted frigate in a storm. Now, every time Sweety's out of the cage, the Boom-meister slinks off to a bedroom, sadly unaware that his position in the family would be immediately improved by one snap of his jaws. In the animal world, size is relative to attitude. In Boomer's mind, Sweety is a massive, marauding pterodactyl and, come to think of it, that's pretty much the way Sweety sees herself, too.
Sweety bit me once early on in an ill-conceived coup attempt and I smacked her across the room -- a purely spontaneous, involuntary reaction, I promise. Now, she views me as something akin to the bull of the prison block and herself as my faithful leg-breaker.
Last weekend, Sweety's chirping apparently caught the ear of another lovebird who had flown its coop. In retrospect, I think Sweety's chirping was more along the lines of a trap than a rescue beacon. In any case, the ratty lovebird flew into the house when I opened the door.
As soon as I put the sickly bird in the cage, Sweety attacked it with a vengeance I haven't seen since Tyson went after Holyfield. Thank God, birds don't have ears.
So we took the sick bird down to the vet center where I learned that good deeds cost hard cash. The Hawaiian Humane Society charges the vets a $10 pickup fee that vets pass on to anyone dumb enough to let stray birds fly into their homes.
I told the young lady at the animal hospital I thought such a fee was counter-productive to the concept of good Samaritanism and was about to prove it by whistling "Born Free" and tossing the bird out the door. But my daughter wouldn't have it and so I coughed up the money.
There seems to be some confusion about the humane society's pickup-fee situation. Spokeswoman Eve Holt told me a few days later they will pick up injured or sick animals for free. But Kathy Todd, manager of the Kaneohe Animal Hospital, said the policy seems fluid -- sometimes the society charges and sometimes it doesn't. (You can deliver found animals for free directly to the society any time.)
In any case, it turns out that a hospital employee decided to take the bird home and nurse it back to health and so I could have my $10 back.
Since Boomer is a regular client of the vet center, I asked Todd to put my 10 bucks "on account." I didn't say, "on account of that crazy Sweety's gonna tear that dog up one day."
Charles Memminger, winner of
National Society of Newspaper Columnists
awards in 1994 and 1992, writes "Honolulu Lite"
Monday, Wednesday and Friday.
Write to him at the Honolulu Star-Bulletin,
P.O. Box 3080, Honolulu, 96802
or send E-mail to charley@nomayo.com or
71224.113@compuserve.com.
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