Maybe I Spoke Too Soon

Okay, Polly’s dying. There, I thought I should get that out in the beginning. After all of my mean-hearted comments (which I do not take back- they were well deserved), it looks like Polly’s about to kick the can. It all started this morning when I woke up.
I came down for breakfast (late, mind you, because I slept for the first time with earplugs and forgot what it was like to sleep without rooster squaks), and my family told me Polly was sick. I asked why, because he has seemed fine every other day when I’ve seen him, and my sister replied, “Because mom hit him.”

Okay, don’t get your panties in a bunch and call PETA on my host mom; we hit Polly on the head every day. I’m not saying with a broomstick or anything, but just give him light tap on his feathers when he tries to take one of our fingers off- this is well-deserved. The bird was fine- but now, hmm, well he seems really sick- he let me pet him for the first time. Maybe my mom gave him a harder reprimand than usual but I’m having trouble believing that. I think he either has some sort of infection or he’s just paying for all the meanness that he harbors in that little hollowed-bone body of his. He walks kind of funny now- almost like he’s drunk and during lunch he just laid down on the table which I’ve never seen before. And when I was looking in his eyes they were continuously dilating and constricting- maybe that’s normal- I’ve just never gotten that close to his face before to see.

So, needless to say, lunch was awkward. We had rice, potatoes, a little chicken and some spinach cream on top. I actually didn’t think it was too bad. But my dad, mad at my mom because he thinks she’s the reason for why Polly looks like he took one too many Tequila shots, said he didn’t like the sauce. This I have deemed to be a bold-faced lie because even I liked the sauce this time and my sister, Prixie, of course, had her face up to the mouth of the blender that the sauce was made in, trying to catch the last drops of spinach cream juice that were available.

This created silence around the table with me eating awkwardly and staring at Polly lying on top of the napkin stack- reminding us all that the beloved-family pet was suffering. Trying to change the subject, I asked how my mom’s sister was doing who was in Lima having a mammogram done. Bad question. This reminded my mom that her sister was in fact STUCK in Lima because there is a nationwide strike going on in the transportation system (gas prices went up too quickly) and Aunt Tania probably won’t make it home for their brother’s wedding this weekend. Why do I feel like I create the awkward situations sometimes?

So, I never thought I’d say this, but I hope Polly feels better- not to the point of pure excellence when he can chase me around the kitchen and bite my feet while I’m eating, but just so that he can make my family happy again. Because right now- tensions are running high and now I am in my room reading. I’ll keep you all posted.