The pigeon has feelings too!

Here's something interesting. Yesterday I went out to our patio to spray paint some bottles and I noticed a dead pigeon in the corner. I know, white trash, believe me our neighbors would love to see us evicted.
A few months ago Joe brought home a pigeon trap and started circling the nearby gas stations at 5am trying to catch pigeons. He succeeded on one of these ventures and suddenly we had 12 lovely pets out on our balcony. And those pigeons attracted the pigeons from our parking area, so occasionally we would gain an extra. Joe would come back in the house looking befuddled and mumbling numbers to himself, "I swear there were only six in that cage this morning..." And that is how the pigeon trap was dubbed The Trap That Keeps On Giving.

Indeed.

Joe is currently trapping eagles (a far more noble bird) in California, but the day of his departure he alerted me to the dead pigeon in the corner of our patio. It seems that, for whatever reason, the bait-less trap lured in a wild pigeon. Having no water or food (among many other things that pigeons inherently lack) it soon died. So, the two of us stood there looking at it until I went back in the house and Joe continued packing his truck. I assumed he also got rid of the pigeon, though yesterday I found that I was mistaken. Joe doesn't really ever do anything wrong, so I was excited to bring this up.

That night when we talked, I expected our conversation to go something like this:

E: You forgot to dispose of the dead pigeon before you left.
J: Oh no! My sweet, my dear, my darling-- oh how can you possibly bear the stress of moving through life so close to a dead pigeon? You must believe me, sugar plum, that it was not my intention to leave a rotting carcass on the patio for you to have to deal with. Especially because that pigeon wouldn't be there at all if it weren't for my darned trap. And goodness knows you're the loveliest creature on the planet for graciously putting up with my collection of live pigeons while they cooed all day and all night.
E: Ah, my gallant love, do not despair, it was the most organic of errors. It was a simple, inconspicuous faux pas, burdensome to dwell upon. I am very understanding and also forgiving.

In real life the conversation went like this:

E: You forgot to dispose of the dead pigeon before you left.
J: Yeah. I know.
E: Wh-- ... Wait. You... Why is it still here?!
J: Well, for two reasons...
Then he proceeded to list reasons why he, unsympathetically, left the decaying body of a bird on our patio, nary two feet away from the door, and not once did he compliment my bravery.

So, aside from finishing up the wedding plans this is the way I've been passing my time-- making up conversations and dodging a dead pigeon.

That blob in the corner is a dead pigeon.