The Autumn Bird

In Memory of Indy

The golden autumn leaves crunched under Indy’s feet as we walked through the small park across from our home. She went out of her way to walk through them, delighting in either the sound, the feel, or both. The morning sun made the stubborn leaves still on the trees glow like flakes of light. The air was sharp, but not unkind. It made you grateful for sweaters and tea, and warm fur curled up against you on the couch.

Indy had stopped, staring at a spot in the grass.

“Let’s go, Indy,” I said.

The only movement she made, eventually, was to look up at me with those brown eyes that seemed to have no limit to their depth. Come here, they said. I did. Under her curious nose was a small bird, unmoving. It must have flown into a window of a house next to the park, and was stunned. Indy nudged it with gently with her nose.

“Careful,” I said.

She took a tiny step back, not taking her eyes off of the bird. I remembered finding a bird like that when I was young. My dad picked it up like it was porcelain and put it in a shoebox to give it a quiet place to recover. Just a few hours later, he opened the lid, and I watched that bird fly away.

“I need to get a box,” I told Indy. I talked to her like she was a person, and she listened, and understood, because she was more than a dog. She was only 2 years-old then, but she was an old soul. “Let’s go see what we can find.” I started walking, but Indy didn’t move. “Come on,” I said, “We’ll be right back.”

Those brown eyes looked at me again. I’m not leaving.

“Ok, I’ll be back.”

It took some digging, but I found an old shoebox full of photos in the closet. I put the handfuls of memories aside, and went back to the park with the box, a safe pace to recover away from birds of prey and cats. Indy was sitting with the bird, her expressive eyebrows furrowed with concern. I carefully scooped the little bird up and cupped it in my hands. It was warm, and I could feel its tiny heartbeat against my palm. Indy supervised the rescue, her nose following the path of the bird into the shoebox. She shadowed the box until we got in the door, and didn’t settle until she was satisfied with how I laid it to rest on the table. I couldn’t help but wonder what about that little bird had drawn her empathy. I could tell you my memory of that day, but what about hers?

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I am Indy. I am also Littles, Babes, and Inders. Most of all, I am Good Girl. I love being Good. I love smells and I love feels. The best is Lovefeel. I can’t smell feels, but I can feel feels, because there is something in my body like an Insidenose, and it attaches to my tail. I use my tail to tell my family when I’m happy or scared. Insidenose also attaches to my face, to tell them when I want something or don’t want something. Most of the time they understand, but not always. I can’t blame them. They’re only human.

I smelled the bird before I saw it. Dad always listened to me. He knew when I had something important, like needing to go pee or play with a toy, but this was very important.

A bird, not flying. Sometimes I chased big birds because they were mean to other birds. I liked the little birds. All they did was make music. This little bird needed help, and eventually my Dad understood and got a Smallthing to put the bird in, which I didn’t like because it was dark inside the Smallthing, but he said it would help. At home, I lay down and waited for the bird to wake up so it could fly out of the Smallthing.

When I was a puppy, before I came to live with my Mom and Dad, I lived in a Smallthing. I ran in my dreams and it made the Smallthing feel bigger. With Mom and Dad, I dreamed of running so far and fast that the Smallthing was too big to fit in my dreams anymore.

I wondered what birds dreamed about. Birds and Littlethings like squirrels saw the world differently up there, so their dreams must have been different. They must have dreamed about Uptherethings. I dreamed Downherethings, but maybe one day I would dream Uptherethings. Stranger things have happened. Once, I saw a cat way up in a tree, a Downherething Upthere, so anything was possible.

I wanted the bird to fly out of its Smallthing so it could go back to Upthere, but I waited a long time, and it didn’t make any music. Dad peeked into the Smallthing later, and didn’t look happy, so when he sat down, I sat with him to make us both feel better. I tried to stay awake, which was very hard when you were as busy as someone like me.

I was having a dream about running and running and running. It was a good one, because when I woke up my feet were still moving. Dad was standing over the Smallthing, smiling. Goodfeels. The Smallthing moved a tiny bit. The bird! We took the Smallthing outside and I ran around Dad as he held it out and opened it - the bird flew out! It flew and flew until I couldn’t see it Upthere, but I could hear it making music. Dad hugged me and said I was Good. So, so Good. What a wonderful day.