disheveled on her return, as though she had been running her hands through it a lot, and she looked irritated, glowering at her mother as she sat down. Helena must be used to it because she didnât flinch under her daughterâs icy glare.
Unfortunately, Marianne hadnât shut our front door properly, so Dog must have managed to get out. Oblivious to Dogâs adventure, Dad decided to attempt to make things a little better. He failed. âI think weâll all be very happy together.â
Marianne and I stared at him.
âIâm really looking forward to us all getting to know each other.â He beamed slightly manically.
Marianne and I continued to stare at him. My eyes were starting to hurt from all the staring.
Dad tried again. âI think itâs going to be great!â he squeaked.
Helena nodded enthusiastically, looking at Marianne. âOf course it will!â
âItâs madness,â Marianne hissed at her.
This prompted a long silence once again. I was building up the courage to say something along the lines of congratulations just to lighten the atmosphere when Dog thought this would be an excellent opportunity to return from his solo venture and show off the fruits of his exploits.
Dog trotted into the living room carrying a live pigeon. Its wings flapped about his snout as he proudly presented it to Marianne.
When she looked up to see a Labrador with a pigeon in its mouth, Marianne screamed at the top of her lungs. Helena yelped and flung herself back against the sofa. Dad, in his infinite wisdom, leaped to his feet and commanded Dog to drop his offering.
Dog, for the first time in his life, actually did as he was told and dropped the gift. The pigeon immediately took flight, feathers spraying everywhere, and directed itself toward Marianneâs head. She continued to scream and went to escape its line of flight, flinging herself off the sofa and onto the floor.
Helena lay flat on the sofa as the pigeon hysterically flew around the room, completely disorientated, attempting to escape the loud noise and commotion while Dad ran around, trying to chase it out of the door. In fact he was no help whatsoever and most likely made everything worse as the pigeon was now being chased by a madman flailing his arms wildly about the place. The pigeon went to the bathroom mid-flight, our sofas taking the brunt of the splatter. Marianne screamed in horror as her leather jacket became victim to a large dollop of white bird poo.
Dog further added to the commotion by joining Dad in running around the living room, barking the pigeon down. The excitement then got to be too much for Dog, and he began chasing his tail instead, still barking elatedly.
I dived behind the sofa at first, then crawled hastily toward the door, rolling clumsily into the hallway before shutting myself in the closet. It was just like a scene from Die Hard, except instead of Bruce Willis there was me, and instead of bullets there was pigeon poop.
Helenaâs voice rose above the shouts of my father before suddenly it went quiet. I pressed my ear to the door. The pigeon must have changed its position. There was movement in the hallway, around the vicinity of my closet.
WHAT IF THE PIGEON WAS OUTSIDE THE CLOSET?
I strained my ears for the sound of coos. Instead there was a rap on the door and an urgent voice said, âAnna?â
It was Helena. I concluded she was looking for help.
âHere, take this as a weapon!â I yelled dramatically, opening the door slightly and hurling the nozzle of a vacuum out into the hallway, slamming the door shut again.
âThe pigeon is gone.â
I clambered out. Dad shut Dog in the kitchen, and Helenatook a deep breath and announced that it might be best for her to go home.
Marianne was nowhere to be seen, but our front door was wide open, so I assumed she had stormed out soon after the pigeon had escaped.
Helena whispered something to my dad, said good-bye to
Unfortunately, Marianne hadnât shut our front door properly, so Dog must have managed to get out. Oblivious to Dogâs adventure, Dad decided to attempt to make things a little better. He failed. âI think weâll all be very happy together.â
Marianne and I stared at him.
âIâm really looking forward to us all getting to know each other.â He beamed slightly manically.
Marianne and I continued to stare at him. My eyes were starting to hurt from all the staring.
Dad tried again. âI think itâs going to be great!â he squeaked.
Helena nodded enthusiastically, looking at Marianne. âOf course it will!â
âItâs madness,â Marianne hissed at her.
This prompted a long silence once again. I was building up the courage to say something along the lines of congratulations just to lighten the atmosphere when Dog thought this would be an excellent opportunity to return from his solo venture and show off the fruits of his exploits.
Dog trotted into the living room carrying a live pigeon. Its wings flapped about his snout as he proudly presented it to Marianne.
When she looked up to see a Labrador with a pigeon in its mouth, Marianne screamed at the top of her lungs. Helena yelped and flung herself back against the sofa. Dad, in his infinite wisdom, leaped to his feet and commanded Dog to drop his offering.
Dog, for the first time in his life, actually did as he was told and dropped the gift. The pigeon immediately took flight, feathers spraying everywhere, and directed itself toward Marianneâs head. She continued to scream and went to escape its line of flight, flinging herself off the sofa and onto the floor.
Helena lay flat on the sofa as the pigeon hysterically flew around the room, completely disorientated, attempting to escape the loud noise and commotion while Dad ran around, trying to chase it out of the door. In fact he was no help whatsoever and most likely made everything worse as the pigeon was now being chased by a madman flailing his arms wildly about the place. The pigeon went to the bathroom mid-flight, our sofas taking the brunt of the splatter. Marianne screamed in horror as her leather jacket became victim to a large dollop of white bird poo.
Dog further added to the commotion by joining Dad in running around the living room, barking the pigeon down. The excitement then got to be too much for Dog, and he began chasing his tail instead, still barking elatedly.
I dived behind the sofa at first, then crawled hastily toward the door, rolling clumsily into the hallway before shutting myself in the closet. It was just like a scene from Die Hard, except instead of Bruce Willis there was me, and instead of bullets there was pigeon poop.
Helenaâs voice rose above the shouts of my father before suddenly it went quiet. I pressed my ear to the door. The pigeon must have changed its position. There was movement in the hallway, around the vicinity of my closet.
WHAT IF THE PIGEON WAS OUTSIDE THE CLOSET?
I strained my ears for the sound of coos. Instead there was a rap on the door and an urgent voice said, âAnna?â
It was Helena. I concluded she was looking for help.
âHere, take this as a weapon!â I yelled dramatically, opening the door slightly and hurling the nozzle of a vacuum out into the hallway, slamming the door shut again.
âThe pigeon is gone.â
I clambered out. Dad shut Dog in the kitchen, and Helenatook a deep breath and announced that it might be best for her to go home.
Marianne was nowhere to be seen, but our front door was wide open, so I assumed she had stormed out soon after the pigeon had escaped.
Helena whispered something to my dad, said good-bye to
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