Odds: 0

Saw this hanging up in a nearby town earlier tonight.

Odds of the Clippers winning the 2011-12 NBA title? Slim.

Odds of Bobby Brown making a Top 40 comeback? Next to none.

Odds of Pudding returning home? I’ve gotta say … zero.

I’m not making fun. Losing a pet sucks. But I just can’t imagine someone spotting Pudding in, oh, a nearby tree, whistling a few bars of Air Supply and having Pudding gently fly atop a finger. Maybe I’m wrong; maybe birds work in mysterious ways. But, if I had to guess, I’m thinking right now Pudding is either:

1. Chilling with a bunch of birds, thrilled to be free from the cage of hell.

2. Inside a snake’s stomach.

Oh, well.

3 thoughts on “Odds: 0”

  1. I had a bird once, green parakeet cleverly named Larry. My buddies and I got robbed one night, thieves left the doors wide open, middle of winter. Larry was found dead at bottom of cage. Which is a worse fate? Bottom of cage or inside a snake?

  2. I used to get a laugh out of the “missing brown cat” posters I’d see on my run in Boulder. About half the time, a few files away, I would start seeing “found: remains of brown cat” posters. The area is lousy with mountain lions and coyotes by the way. Missing cat usually means consumed cat.

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