Legend has it that young birds don’t bark. When a baby bird hatches, it seems to have come with an innate understanding that barking is simply not part of their repertoire. So when my husband wrapped his fat fingers around our canary in an attempt to stop her from chirping all day, her only reaction was to sing even more fervently, a pathetic defiance that ultimately led to her death.

Leaving this world without even having let out a single bark? Now that’s pitiful. To go through life devoid of the ability to intimidate and manipulate those around you, is a fate most unfortunate. She must have missed out on the thrill of being in the vicinity for power politics. What a disservice to her potential!

I should have saved her and the many other young birds who met their untimely demise at the hands of my husband. But how am I to save her when she couldn’t even stand for herself, and when she didn’t even ask for my help? Or thank me at least? I like to help people. I like to help the poor. But I don’t like to help people who just nod like a bobblehead, chirp and not bark. Wishing she could have mustered the courage to shout, “Yes! I have an opinion too!” But alas, her voice is stuck somewhere between a whisper and a sneeze.

RIP