Poor Poophead

I had just got home from work on Tuesday night when I noticed that something was not right. I usually enter the house and beautifully sing, or scream (you pick), "Tweet, Tweet!" Our cute little birds are pretty good at talking back to me and I enjoy humoring myself as well. Tuesday, however, there was only one bird singing praises to me. That was the bird that my son affectionately named Stinker. It seems that Poophead, my son named him too, died sometime during the day. I found him at the bottom of the bird cage. Stinker was throwing a stink fit too(Hence the clever name and the fact that he bit my husband when we first brought him home!). We quickly buried Poophead in the backyard and Stinker seemed to calm down.

I know that animals die and I am alright with that. However, I think I am the one to blame for this tragedy. While noticing the dead bird on the bottom of the cage, I also noticed the lack of water in the water dish. Crikey! No wonder heaven is not sending me any babies. I am pretty sure God thinks I may neglect them!