My dog just killed somebody's baby.
We have been watching the robin who built a nest high above our backyard, in a crook of the rain gutter. We have watched her feed worms to her two babies. And yesterday after work, I saw her perched on a branch about 10 feet away, chirping, trying to convince them to fly.
This morning, I followed the usual routine, feeding both dogs their breakfast, then letting them go for a trip outside. I could see Angus takin' care of business, but Tuesday had gone around the corner. I stepped away from the window to pour myself some cereal. Angus asked to be let back in, and I obliged him, leaving the door open a crack to wait for Tuesday. That's when I heard the frantic birds.
I went outside and saw adult robins diving angrily at our side yard. Tuesday came around the corner of the house, licking her chops.
I ordered her back inside, then forced myself to go peek around the corner. Sure enough, there lay the body of a juvenile robin.
Sometimes I really, really dislike nature. I just fed that dog a nice bowl of breakfast, yet her instinct leads her to go kill something when she's not even hungry. (I'm sure if she could talk, she would argue that she's always hungry. Bitch.)
That mama bird was doing all the right things, then my selfish dog, a ball of id on four feet, ruined it. I hope she didn't kill the other one, too.