For Sheila

     The sun hadn’t yet risen as an electronic beeping pushed me out of sleep. With a yawn and a stretch, I blinked my eyes, mindlessly reaching over to switch off the alarm clock which let me know it was 5 o’clock in the morning. Turning on the bedside lamp with a quick glance around to see if there had been any changes in the night, it appeared that nothing seemed out of the ordinary, which was a good thing. Knowing that I had opened my life up to potential disaster during this time, I was glad that all was early morning quiet. Giving a final stretch, I slid out from under the covers and made my way toward the living room.

Quietly moving in the darkness down the hall that led to the main room, I was greeted by the first of three companions. He greeted me in silence as he often did. He was of Asian origin, very lean and stealthy, a hunter by nature. He usually took his time when making his greetings in the morning, but it didn’t take him long to see that all was well in his world, and it was only a matter of moments before he started making his wishes known. I had to give a smile at this. Even though we did not speak the same language, he let me know what he wanted. I began a small conversation with him, telling him that he was understood, and made my way past him, moving into the kitchen with him following close behind, still making demands for breakfast. I completely ignored the closed door in the hallway that I had to pass.

Once in the kitchen, silence retreated. I increased my conversation with Chiang, for that was the name I called him by, and had to smile again as I began working on breakfast with his responses growing in volume and intensity. I knew the routine, as well as he did. Pan on the stove, a couple of eggs, slices of bread in the toaster, and a few strips of bacon. Bacon was always cooked first, because you just can’t have scrambled eggs unless flavored in some of the bacon drippings. Chiang began to focus more attention as the aroma of cooking filled the room, and he moved closer, situating himself so he could monitor the process of preparing the food. It was the final step in this creation that always interested him the most, and I knew it. After removing my scrambled eggs and bacon from the pan, I tossed in a few pieces of fish. Chiang began to voice his anticipation even louder, his impatience showing. It always pleased me to see his excitement over the first meal of the day.

With breakfast finally over and cleanup completed, I spent a few more minutes with Chiang who was by now tending to his own cleanup. Taking advantage of his distraction, it was now time to check on the other two companions hidden behind the closed door in the hallway.

Moving back down the hall I put my ear to the closed door and listened. Hearing nothing, I cast a quick glance toward the kitchen where Chiang relaxed. He showed complete indifference in what I was doing, which led me to swiftly make my way into the room, shutting the door behind me before turning on the lights.

The two that resided in this room were Australians. They were a quiet pair, which was a good thing, because if they caused too much noise it would attract the attention of Chiang, who would most likely try to come up with some way to attack them. This was the disaster I had mentioned earlier and had to be avoided at all costs. So far everything had gone well in this prevention, as all three companions had been residing in my house for a few months now. I had warned them of Chiang and told them that due to the dangers, they could never leave this room. They never tried to leave it at any rate, there was no need to. I made sure that everything they needed would be provided to them by me personally. Because the Australians were expecting little ones, I never spent a lot of time with them, wanting to give as much privacy as possible. I tended to their breakfast, and helped to tidy up their room, before quietly exiting.

The sun had risen by this time, letting me know that it was time to leave. Work had to be done, and shopping for the household needed to be taken care of. I went back into my room and prepared for the day. A uniform was required for my place of employment, so I changed and gathered my things and left, with a final check on the hallway door to ensure it was securely closed.

As I had mentioned before, this had been the way of things for several months and there had up to this point, never been any incidents. Due to the precautions that were routinely done, I had no reason to expect the carnage that occurred on that fateful day.

    It had been a long day at work, and a busy one. Working in the food service industry was often like this, with lunch and early dinner rushes occupying a major portion of the day. Now that my shift was over, I could allow myself to unwind and take things a bit easier on the way home. After a quick stop at the grocery store to pick up some things that were needed for the next few days, I let my mind wander to the relaxing time waiting for me at home. My plans were to curl up in a chair with a good book and was looking forward to it as I pulled my car into the driveway and exited, heading for the house.

Upon entering the living room, nothing seemed out of place. Chiang came to greet me at the door. Returning the welcome, I made my way into the kitchen so that the groceries that had been purchased could be put away. I told Chiang that his supper would be taken care of in a moment, after changing out of my work clothes and getting into something more comfortable for the evening. It wasn’t long before I was going back down the hallway, giving only a cursory glance at the closed door as I made my way back in the kitchen to make supper for Chiang and myself.

With after supper clean up done, and dishes washed and put away, I went over to the bookshelf and selected a book that interested me, then placed it onto the small table near the couch in the living room. Giving a quick glance at Chiang who was curled up in a nearby chair with eyes closed, I took this opportunity to make my way back down the hall and stopped at the closed door.

I had no reason to suspect anything out of the ordinary. The door did not appear to be tampered with, and all seemed to be well. Knowing that the lights were still on in the room as they usually were during the day, the vision that met my eyes as I opened the door was almost immediate. Somehow, Chiang had struck.

Two bodies lay on the floor. Torn and bloodied, there was no immediate sign of movement, and my emotions overwhelmed me. Horrified by what was blatantly obvious, I rushed closer, noticing that all was not completely lost. Mick was gone, nothing remained of him but tattered shreds, but the Female, Sheila, was still holding on. Instinct took over at this point and I ran to the adjacent bathroom where the first aid kit was kept, soon returning with hands filled with bandaging and antibiotic ointments, cotton balls and anything else I could think of. Tending to her, I picked up her small form and carried her toward my room, closing the hallway door behind me. With tears streaming down my face I turned to the phone and made a call for help.

My father answered the phone and with despairing sobs I blurted out the story. Nothing was held back. He offered no words till my feelings of devastation began to wind down, then quietly told me to bring her to him, that he would put every effort into doing what could be done for her. Still crying, I agreed and after a few moments, hung up the phone, turning my attention back to Sheila. Wrapping her up with warm towels, I gathered up the first aid supplies and took her to my car, placing her on the passenger seat. Spending a few seconds to ensure she was comfortable, it was not long before I was on my way.

My dad met me at the front door and swiftly led me inside. Taking Sheila from me, we made our way into his living room where he placed her gently down and instructed me to go to the laundry room and get the heat lamp. I left to do as he asked, and upon returning, I saw that he had cleaned her off, reapplying more antibiotic ointments before wrapping her in fresh bandages. Offering a hug, he said there was no more that could be done, letting me know that only time would tell. With that he suggested I return to my home for rest, which was what was needed. Besides, I had another matter that needed to be dealt with.

Chiang.

Chiang had changed location, and was now lounging in the cat tree as I burst through the front door. 

    With a slam to the front door, still upset by the situation, I swiftly approached Chiang. Grabbing him by the scruff of his neck, I pulled him towards me and scolded him as he began to hiss and struggle to get away. I still could not understand it fully, how on Earth could a cat get into a closed room? It didn’t occur to me that he would be able to wiggle his way under the door, but I guessed that was how he had managed to make his entry. The space beneath the door was about 2 inches, but I had failed to take into consideration the give of the carpet that lay beneath the door. That put it at nearly 3 inches of open space. I blamed Chiang, but it was just as much my fault. After several months with no issues I didn’t think anything would happen. Smokey Blue Synn Chiang was a show cat, registered with TICA, The International Cat Association, a Siamese with a solid bloodline. Yes, he was small, but I didn’t think he was that small. I had just gotten into this hobby of raising Zebra Finches, and was excited about it. I had converted half the spare bedroom into an elaborate breeding cage for them. Mick was just an average Zebra Finch, with no special features, But Sheila? She was special. With an average cost of a single Zebra Finch being around 5 dollars at the time, I had gone all out on Sheila, the mother of a bloodline I was trying to create. I had paid 75 dollars for her, because she was a rare pied color. She had three eggs in her nest, unfortunately no eggs hatched due to the attack.

Knowing that Sheila was still alive, I had made my decision. I did love Chiang, but with the incident of the previous night, I knew it would be hard to look at him in the same way, with no anger or grief flooding my mind. This was not his fault. He was as mentioned, a hunter by nature, but Sheila had to take priority now.

The following morning, I made a second phone call to my father to find out how well Sheila was recovering. She had survived her first night. Arrangements were made for my dad to temporarily take possession of Chiang so Sheila could come back home with me. Returning to my fathers house with Chiang, the trade was made. Placing Sheila in the same small box as before, I asked if it would be alright to borrow the heat lamp, and then returned home with her, to continue nursing her back to health. My original hobby of breeding Zebra Finches was of course put on hold. All of my thoughts and desires were now focused on keeping Sheila alive.

I posted an ad for Chiang to be sold, and the ad was eventually answered by a buyer in a city several hundred miles away. The buyers wife owned a cattery and was more than happy to add the Chiang bloodline to their feline family. Chiang would be loved there, and with his own kind. All of my attention could now be focused on my little Sheila.

Sheila had made a full recovery. A special cage was built for her, one that had no perches, but flat cushioned platforms, and a lot of them so that she could easily get around. She had only one foot remaining, the other completely gone, leaving just a stub of what remained of her leg, and she had lost both of her wings. Despite all of this, she still hopped around happily in her cage, which I kept near the head of my bed. She still sang to me every every day.

It was three years later when I discovered that she had passed on. I had awoken one morning with her gone, having died of old age. She had survived extreme trauma, and had been a true fighter. It was in her Honor that, a few years after her death, I picked back up on my hobby of Zebra Finch breeding and have had many successful lines. I kept registries of all my babies, and their records, and even though I never rekindled the desire to develop new and rare strains of coloration, Sheila’s memory was always there with each new hatchings of babies. Nothing could ever replace her.

This is a true story. Minor changes were made for the sake of the tale. In the real world, the birds did not have names, and there were more than just the two. All were unhurt, but the two mentioned did indeed get the brunt of the attack that ended with Mick perishing and Sheila, my lovely disabled ladybird beating all the odds.