A Shadow on the WindowsillThe old dog’s fur stood a congregation of yellow and white hairs rising from the waves of sagging skin. He scuttled across the hardwood floor, swinging his weight to make the turn into the living room. Dropping his butt to end the momentum, he looked around the room through cataract-incased eyes, making out a flap of color on the windowsill.More Like This
Always the same damn bird.
As a pup, he diligently watched the bird for hours upon end. From the first squawk he heard, the old hound became fascinated with the redbird’s peculiar movements: the side to side shuffle of his dance, the rapid side-to-side head cock, the diving head first into a glass window yelling, “Whatdyousaymotherfucker?”
During the middle of his merging memories, a shadow dropped from the top of the highest cabinet. It wrapped around the corner of his worst eye, and before he blinked the shadow flung itself atop the windowsill, just out of vision from the redbird. The shadow’s eyes were green like th