My Crow

Tonight, I caught a crow. I am walking back to the house, thinking of what I would have been doing had I been home, when I see what appears to be a black plastic bag fluttering against a gate. When I turn for a closer look, I realize that it is not a black plastic bag, but is, in fact, a crow. I am about to walk on when I remember a small shred of my past.

I was with my family, in our car, when I saw a motorcyclist casually drive over a crow stranded on the road. Amazingly, the crow survived the initial impact (with two shattered wings) but no one picked it up. I almost asked for the car to be stopped, but then I told myself that somebody would eventually save it. We drove on.

I bet that crow died.

It flutters and flails against my grasp, but when I tighten my grip it quiets down. I carry it up to my room. My roommate is out right now, which is good, for now the crow can roam the room freely. I put it on my table. Amongst books and an irritating alarm clock, this crow is out of place, and I think it senses this; it immediately defecates on the tablecloth. I hurriedly throw the crow onto the terrace and put the cloth to wash. If the landlady sees the crow in the room, I’ll be in for it. If the dog comes onto the terrace, the crow will be in it. I bring the crow in from the cold, and place it on the naked table. I pet and caress it. It isn’t big enough to be hugged. For the first time, I take a close look at it. Beady eyes, hard beak, sharp claws, reptilian gait. Pretty little thing.

I’ve always wanted a pet, but I never expected to ever keep a crow. I take a biscuit, dip it in water and feed my crow. My roommate walks in, and I decide to go on the offensive. He parries superbly. I know the landlady will have a fit when she knows, but she has a dog, I’m sure she’ll understand. Anyway, it can’t fly, and it will keep away lizards. I know his weak spot (he hates lizards) and he succumbs to my will.

I have a crow! I’ll take it to college tomorrow. Might even make some friends. I’m sure somebody will want to come and ask me about my crow. My brother would have liked it.
I put the crow on the window in the bathroom, and talk to it while I change. My roommate is pretty moody. This crow is a good listener. I crawl into bed. It’s 11:30. I wake up in shock. It’s 11:55. I just had a nightmare. I dreamt my crow died of thirst. I fill a soap dish with water, think of soap poisoning, throw out the water, clean the dish (sans soap) and then fill it again. I place it before the crow and crawl into bed.

I wake up when I feel sunlight on my eyes. I check on my crow. It’s wide awake. Must have risen with the dawn. I get ready quickly. Never had a crow watch me taking a bath before. I go down for breakfast.

I am intercepted on the staircase. It’s the landlady.
Throw out the filthy bird. I defend my crow.
You only pay rent for yourself, not for your filthy pets. I protest.
There are others willing to pay more for the luxuries I provide. I scoff.
She threatens to throw me out. That settles it.
I have nowhere to go.

I go upstairs. The crow is blurred, misted; I can’t see it very clearly anymore. I pick it up, and it struggles. I thrust it into a bucket of water. My bath water. Hope there isn’t any soap in it. Now the crow goes limp. Looks like a black plastic bag.