When Doves Cry

For those of you music aficionados who are soon to be disappointed to discover that this is not a blog post about Prince and his music, here’s a link to the title song. Satisfied? Now, on to a post about doves. Yeah, the birds.

I really meant to protect the baby dove. I had no intention of going all Ozzy Osbourne on the dove, although I had not yet had breakfast. I truly thought I was getting the baby dove out of harm’s way.

I was on a very long, early morning walk yesterday. There was the baby dove, huddled in the middle of the road. I scooped it up and moved it into an area off the road near some mailboxes. It moved around a bit while in my hands, so it seemed relatively healthy. I planned my walking route to pass that spot on my way back home to make sure the dove had moved on.

Only it hadn’t. There it was in the exact same spot. And it sounded like it was crying. Ugh! I vowed to give it some time for the day and the dove to warm a bit and check back. Besides, the local animal shelter would not be open for hours yet. So, I left the baby dove, vowing to return, not knowing the imminent danger to which I had exposed the bird.

Three hours later, I had spoken to the animal shelter who told me that a predator had likely taken the dove from its nest and dropped it in the road where I found it. Seems sort of rude, like when I take a second plate of food from the buffet and just move the food around a bit without eating any. Really wasteful. Just kidding. I always eat any food within my reach.

So, I grabbed my middle daughter and a box, and we headed over to check on Little Prince. Yes, I named the baby dove. And if it is a female, Little Princess, but I thought it would have been forward of me to check considering we had just met.

As we neared the spot, I told my daughter to speed up and quickly park. I ran from the vehicle to find Little Prince before the commercial lawn service that was in the process of mowing the yard (YIKES!) reached the mailboxes. Yes, I had taken the dove from the proverbial fat and put it directly into the fire. The dove surely would have been Osbourned by the lawn mower.

As it turned out, Little Prince rested safely in the box on the way to the animal rescue facility.

I think the animal rescue place was having some phone trouble yesterday. I was calling every thirty minutes for an update on Little Prince’s condition, and then I couldn’t seem to get through any more, almost like my number had been blocked. But that couldn’t possibly be. They owe me. We adopted this dog from that shelter.

I have no words for him … at least none that are suitable to print.


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