elements.
“Blessed be Creatures of Light.”
Extinguish candle.
Open the circle.
Chapter Seven
The Stalker
“Hi, lilfella!” Dwight called out as I closed the front door. This was the only thing he had said to me since he had moved in, but each time it made my heart feel too big for my ribcage.
“Hi, Dwight!” I hollered up the staircase toward my office where his huge cage now occupied a good deal of space. Dwight didn’t say anything back to me, so I sat down on the fainting couch and pulled off my cowboy boots. These I left by the front door and padded up the staircase in my socks. I ran the short distance down the hall to the open door of my office and slid, like Tom Cruise in Risky Business , to a halt just outside the door. Dwight’s feather crest perked right up, and he bobbed his head in approval.
“Hi there, big fella!” I said. “Whatcha doin’?” Dwight didn’t answer, but he continued to bob his head, so I figured he was happy enough. Our first couple of days together had been spent just looking at each other and being near one another, like the Internet articles advised. The time had been filled with my making small talk in a soothing voice—again, Internet recommendation—and Dwight just listening.
I had called the Humane Society several times to get advice about various things on which I had found conflicting online advice. Each time, the person on the other end of the line spent as much time as I needed to get all my questions answered and each time the person ended the call with a sincere thank you for adopting Dwight. Apparently he had been a favorite of the employees and volunteers at the Humane Society. It sounded like a few people there had started to think no one would ever adopt Dwight because he was such a mess. It did hurt me to look at his raw, plucked belly, but the Internet sources and the Humane Society people seemed to think that Dwight would let his feathers grow back in if we developed a bond.
After the first couple of quiet days had passed, I found myself doing physical things that might amuse him. I did little dances for him. He bobbed his head. I did karate for him. He bobbed his head again. I read passages from my writing. He bobbed his head. I acted out snippets of Romeo and Juliet , with voices and actions. Dwight bobbed his head. He was a bird of few gestures.
A couple days ago, I had made four or five trips into the house with grocery bags, my gym bag and some odds and ends that I had kept from my parents’ moving day. It was then that I discovered that Dwight thought it was a good idea to say hi to me each time I opened the front door. So after I had put things away, I came in and out of the front door several more times so that we could practice calling hi back and forth from my spot at the front door to his spot in the office. My joy, with each one of Dwight’s “Hi lilfellas,” felt as if it were going to expand and explode in the air in front of me. I felt stupid, coming in and out of the front door like a village idiot, but I couldn’t stop myself.
The last time I shut the door, I tiptoed up the steps to see him, but he must have heard me coming because he was looking right at me as I peered into the room. He bobbed his head. I bobbed mine. I grabbed the beautiful green velvet cloak Veronica had given me on Samhain, threw it over my shoulders and spread my arms out so the cloak made wings. I pretended to fly around the office. Dwight spread out his wings and pretended to fly. My heart felt too full, and I had to hold back a rush of emotion. I was so very glad he was here.
I wrapped the cloak around me and collapsed into my desk chair, laughing, and rocked myself to the left, to the right and back to the left. It was soothing, and Dwight copied my movements even though he had no chair in which to swivel. The cloak was warm. I felt so comfortable and cozy that I began to wonder if The Funk had left me. When was the last time I felt detached and
“Blessed be Creatures of Light.”
Extinguish candle.
Open the circle.
Chapter Seven
The Stalker
“Hi, lilfella!” Dwight called out as I closed the front door. This was the only thing he had said to me since he had moved in, but each time it made my heart feel too big for my ribcage.
“Hi, Dwight!” I hollered up the staircase toward my office where his huge cage now occupied a good deal of space. Dwight didn’t say anything back to me, so I sat down on the fainting couch and pulled off my cowboy boots. These I left by the front door and padded up the staircase in my socks. I ran the short distance down the hall to the open door of my office and slid, like Tom Cruise in Risky Business , to a halt just outside the door. Dwight’s feather crest perked right up, and he bobbed his head in approval.
“Hi there, big fella!” I said. “Whatcha doin’?” Dwight didn’t answer, but he continued to bob his head, so I figured he was happy enough. Our first couple of days together had been spent just looking at each other and being near one another, like the Internet articles advised. The time had been filled with my making small talk in a soothing voice—again, Internet recommendation—and Dwight just listening.
I had called the Humane Society several times to get advice about various things on which I had found conflicting online advice. Each time, the person on the other end of the line spent as much time as I needed to get all my questions answered and each time the person ended the call with a sincere thank you for adopting Dwight. Apparently he had been a favorite of the employees and volunteers at the Humane Society. It sounded like a few people there had started to think no one would ever adopt Dwight because he was such a mess. It did hurt me to look at his raw, plucked belly, but the Internet sources and the Humane Society people seemed to think that Dwight would let his feathers grow back in if we developed a bond.
After the first couple of quiet days had passed, I found myself doing physical things that might amuse him. I did little dances for him. He bobbed his head. I did karate for him. He bobbed his head again. I read passages from my writing. He bobbed his head. I acted out snippets of Romeo and Juliet , with voices and actions. Dwight bobbed his head. He was a bird of few gestures.
A couple days ago, I had made four or five trips into the house with grocery bags, my gym bag and some odds and ends that I had kept from my parents’ moving day. It was then that I discovered that Dwight thought it was a good idea to say hi to me each time I opened the front door. So after I had put things away, I came in and out of the front door several more times so that we could practice calling hi back and forth from my spot at the front door to his spot in the office. My joy, with each one of Dwight’s “Hi lilfellas,” felt as if it were going to expand and explode in the air in front of me. I felt stupid, coming in and out of the front door like a village idiot, but I couldn’t stop myself.
The last time I shut the door, I tiptoed up the steps to see him, but he must have heard me coming because he was looking right at me as I peered into the room. He bobbed his head. I bobbed mine. I grabbed the beautiful green velvet cloak Veronica had given me on Samhain, threw it over my shoulders and spread my arms out so the cloak made wings. I pretended to fly around the office. Dwight spread out his wings and pretended to fly. My heart felt too full, and I had to hold back a rush of emotion. I was so very glad he was here.
I wrapped the cloak around me and collapsed into my desk chair, laughing, and rocked myself to the left, to the right and back to the left. It was soothing, and Dwight copied my movements even though he had no chair in which to swivel. The cloak was warm. I felt so comfortable and cozy that I began to wonder if The Funk had left me. When was the last time I felt detached and
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