Goodbye London
My upstairs neighbor kept a bird named London in the backyard. London was a racing pigeon. She originally came from London, Ontario. Her first and only race, she broke her wing. Somehow D. acquired her, and has been taking care of her for several years. London was kept in a large carrier, and D. would change the paper in the carrier, and the food and water, pretty much every day. Many times, London would wander around the yard, picking at things, but she'd usually end up back near her carrier. Several times this summer, I'd find London out back there by herself, and D. would be upstairs in her apartment for maybe 5-10 minutes before she came back down. I was a little concerned about that, because I was afraid that London might be taken by someone or would just run away (since she couldn't fly!). But, D. would come back down and London would be ok, and then put back into her little home.
Today, London was attacked and killed by a roaming cat while D. was upstairs. I was in my kitchen making dinner when I heard the dogs next door barking. I also heard D. start sobbing hysterically. I thought maybe she was upset about a puppy they had to put down at work today (she works in a vet clinic), but 2 minutes later, she came back into the house and called my name. I opened my door and there she was standing with London wrapped in newspaper, blood everywhere. She told me a cat had killed London, and that it was all her fault because she had left her outside by herself. I felt just horrible. D. went back outside, and a bit later I went out there to ask if there was anything I could do, but she said no. I told her I would miss saying hello to London when I'd go into the garage. I did a little attached to her, too. It's hard losing a pet, but even harder when it's a tragic ending. My only hope was that London didn't suffer from the attack. Poor little bird.
(By the way, I saw that black and white cat who killed London later on, wandering around my front yard. D. had seen the cat right before she found London. I wanted to go outside and scare it away, but it took off. Honestly, I feel sad that the cat doesn't have a home and has to wander the neighborhood. I hope that it doesn't meet a tragic demise, either.)
Today, London was attacked and killed by a roaming cat while D. was upstairs. I was in my kitchen making dinner when I heard the dogs next door barking. I also heard D. start sobbing hysterically. I thought maybe she was upset about a puppy they had to put down at work today (she works in a vet clinic), but 2 minutes later, she came back into the house and called my name. I opened my door and there she was standing with London wrapped in newspaper, blood everywhere. She told me a cat had killed London, and that it was all her fault because she had left her outside by herself. I felt just horrible. D. went back outside, and a bit later I went out there to ask if there was anything I could do, but she said no. I told her I would miss saying hello to London when I'd go into the garage. I did a little attached to her, too. It's hard losing a pet, but even harder when it's a tragic ending. My only hope was that London didn't suffer from the attack. Poor little bird.
(By the way, I saw that black and white cat who killed London later on, wandering around my front yard. D. had seen the cat right before she found London. I wanted to go outside and scare it away, but it took off. Honestly, I feel sad that the cat doesn't have a home and has to wander the neighborhood. I hope that it doesn't meet a tragic demise, either.)
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