All photos by Mitch Teemley, except Tulip the bulldog (by Elliot Teemley)

She Was Completely Dependent Upon…

The kindness of strangers. A few weeks ago, our firstborn Elliot was walking near their apartment, when they* spotted a rotund little bulldog nestled in the weeds. They’d have walked on, but the minute they said a friendly word, the creature rose with great difficulty and waddled over to them. “Tulip” (Elliot’s temporary name for her) had no identification, but was clearly well-fed and as docile as a rabbit. She accepted Elliot’s ear-rubs with bliss.

What Now?

Elliot couldn’t keep her, because our granddog Thea was already too much pet for their compact apartment. So they drove her to a local animal shelter. The veterinarian there pronounced Tulip very old and very arthritic. But, he said, there were shelter-regulars who might be willing to provide a final home for “this sweet little couch potato.”

Only one problem: the shelter wouldn’t have an opening until the next day. Could Elliot take her for the night? “Yes,” our firstborn said without hesitation, because kindness is woven into Elliot’s very being. And so they took off work for the day, and asked their significant other to watch Thea. Then Elliot and Tulip moved into their old studio space in our basement for the night. Tulip was a handful. Literally. She had to be carried up and down stairs, and was incontinent. But her endearingly ugly face had “God’s property” written all over it. (Tragically, not everyone understands this. My wife Trudy’s friend saw a woman run over a Canadian goose and its mate the other day, rather than wait for them to finish crossing the road.)

That Night at Bedtime…

…while Elliot read to Miss Tulip in the basement, I headed outside to say goodnight to my Creator. But as I opened the front door, a bird flew past me into the house! Trudy and I found the discombobulated little finch huddled in our den. She finally flew outside when we turned off every light except the one on the porch.

The next day, we learned why she’d been on the front door when I opened it. She’d built a nest on top of Trudy’s spring door-wreath! When we took it down, we found four little finch eggs inside.

What now?

We re-mounted it on the front door, and then carefully avoided using the door for the next three weeks. Although, when Mama Finch was away, I would slip out to snap shots of her babies. Because, bird droppings notwithstanding, that little nest also had “God’s property” written all over it.

Finally, Two Days Ago…

…we found the nest fallen and abandoned at the edge of our door mat. And a short time later, we observed flight training in progress as our little grand-finches flapped furiously to stay aloft. End of story?

Not quite. Word must haven’t gotten out. Because we also found a cardinal’s nest in the honeysuckle bush just three feet away from the front door. So, naturally, I took pictures, first of spotted eggs, then downy hatchlings, and finally hungry featherlings whose mouths popped open every time I made a peep.

Interestingly, when I peeped for Trudy’s bird-sound app, it identified me as a “Northern Cardinal.” So, how can we not practice kindness…

When we’re all part of the same family?

*Elliot prefers the pronoun “they.”