A SHOCK

I'm exhausted. And deaf. And squashed flat. Yesterday I suddenly got bundled up by dear Miss Creative into that horrible plastic bag again...stuffed into what was surely an already overstuffed suitcase...and then---while still inside that hideous suitcase---buffeted this way and that by who knows WHAT...assaulted by tremendous droning and whining and roaring noises that went on and on and on for HOURS...buffeted and flung about once more...Until I was suddenly removed from the suitcase and released from the plastic bag...and this is what I saw:

Dear Miss Creative's new home. Right next door to her daughter's home. And had anyone bothered to explain all this to me? NO---I deduced this from the squealing and screeching and hugging that I observed taking place. So some of Miss Creative's move to Phoenix, Arizona makes just a tiny bit of sense to me. But that doesn't turn this...this...BUILDING...into any more of a home for ME. I always wanted a hollow tree of my own, remember?

Right now, Miss Creative is taking me on a tour of the inside of HER new home. (I confess---I am keeping my eyes shut. Right now I can't bear to look. It just isn't fair. This is the place where I, Bessie Beetum, am going to be imprisoned for the NEXT forty years. Maybe later, when I feel stronger...)

Now Miss Creative is taking me out into the back yard. Something else she wants to show me, she says. Something just for me. Something I've always wanted. Can't say that I trust her. She has no idea what I want. She's never asked.

I'm still keeping my eyes shut. But now...I feel fresh air on my feathers...I hear other birds chatting...and it smells just a little...Mousey?

Don't say a word to Miss Creative. I've got to take a peek. Just for a second. Just to get a glimpse of whatever it is that has that poor deluded creature so excited on my behalf...

This is for ME? Just for ME? It's not a hollow tree, that's for sure. But...just for ME?

I feel weak...I need to lie down...I'll get back to you later...