Sometimes I make embarrassing noises. The kind of noises one might expect from an elderly British noblewoman. Think the Dowager Countess of Downton Abbey as portrayed by Maggie Smith. They usually escape when I do something clumsy, which is rather quite often. Matt asks what I dropped after I make such a noise. Last week I learned that another sort of event elicits my Dowager Countess cry: surprise.
I was headed out to a brunch and went into the kitchen to
grab the banana bread I had baked the night before. While I was packing up, I chatted with my
housekeeper about something or other. My
memory of the conversation was erased after what happened next. As I bent down, she asked me if I noticed
what was on the counter. I had not.
I looked up and let out one of my high-pitched, girly shrieks. A dead mourning dove was upside down on my
countertop, six inches from my face, staring at me out of its glassy eyes. “Where did this come from?” I asked, trying
to recover from what I immediately realize was an embarrassing white lady overreaction. My housekeeper explained that the guard had
found it in the yard; they thought it must have flown into an electric wire
because it didn’t look injured or sick. “What
is it doing in here?” I enquired, trying not to sound too unnerved. Apparently, they wanted to show it to
me. Which is nice I guess, but I would
have rather seen it outside and not in my kitchen. Or at least had a little warning!
The guard asked if he could take it home to eat for dinner
and I told him he was more than welcome to it.
Surprisingly, Prithvi came running in to investigate my cry of surprise and
was too busy trying to comfort me with kisses to notice the dead dove just out
of her reach.
I wonder how long it will be before I find the next animal
that came to an untimely end in our yard sitting on my kitchen countertop.
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