I got him home, set him up in the walk-in closet we generally use for such things. (The last pigeon we had in there had some kind of neurological disorder ... )
That’s it. That’s my inspirational Holiday Tale. If it doesn’t do it for you, there’s plenty of other blogs and twits out there guaranteed to induce diabetes and swamp you in saccharine, full to the gorge with wishes of peace and love and good fuzzy-wuzzy feelings. But I used to be a biologist before I became a professional liar, and I’m telling you: this was a fucking miracle. Or maybe it’s just life.
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