The Artful Dodger

Loss, no matter how small, is felt.
Interactions, though seemingly inconsequential, matter.
And so, I write in memory of Dodger Bird.

Dodger dropped into my family's life -- quite literally -- a little over five years ago. He flew into our back yard one summer day, then flew away. We didn't think we'd see him again. But, being the Artful Dodger, he'd discovered our back yard contained food and water just for the birds. He came back the next day -- looking bedraggled after a night in the wild.

We caught him, nursed him back to health, and put out ads to see if he'd been lost by someone nearby. No one claimed him, so he became ours. And what a bird he was.

He liked to sit on our heads, but not on our hands.
He was a carb junkie.
He loved my Dad and would often sit on his shoulder and sing songs just for him.
He became crabby if put to bed after eight.
He could swipe something off someone's plate before they even noticed.
He had a favorite radio commercial -- one he always whistled along with.
He liked a good head rub -- especially Mom's -- and a good sip of coffee now and again.

He was spoiled.
He deserved to be spoiled.

He will be missed.

Dodger Bird: Birth date unknown -- October 6, 2009