We Pay Our Taxes

We pay our taxes, in both the US and France. We don't ask much of either country, we just blindly pay whatever they say we owe.

When we need something done, I don't expect to have to fight for it. Today I did. I fought and I won, but it shouldn't be this way.

Right after lunch I looked outside toward the ocean, I must do it hundreds of times per day. This time the view was different. Yuck. A dead, oozing, pigeon was on my deck. Oozing yellow stuff, the puddle at least the same size as the bird.

I didn't want to touch it, wild birds have germs that I don't want. I called Animal Control. It's Sunday and they're only open Monday through Friday. Just like in France, nothing bad ever happens Monday through Friday, it always happens on a weekend or holiday.

I called the police dispatch. I was so freaked out that I almost dialed 9-1-1, but I know that's a no-no. The dispatch person who answered the phone told me to pick the bird up and throw it in the trash.

This is where the taxpayer in me starts to get a bit ruffled. I never call the police, the city, the county or the state to do anything for me. I called today. Obviously, if I felt I could pick up the dead bird and throw it in the trash, I would have already done it, I needed help.

The dispatcher finally agreed to send Animal Control out to our house, after a lot of questions -- is the bird in the back yard (if it was, I bet they wouldn't have come), is it in the front yard (well, not exactly, it's on a 3rd-floor deck), can Animal Control access it from outside (only with a tall ladder). She agreed to send someone out but couldn't tell me the ETA.

I settled down with some reading material, knowing that it might be awhile.

It must be a light day at Animal Control, a truck pulled up within the hour. I met the woman officer outside, explained the problem. She was nice and told me that she does this all the time, it's not a problem. Maybe the dispatcher was just in a bad mood.

The officer came in picked up the bird and unfortunately examined it, like an animal coroner. She thought that the bird had probably hit the window and broken it's neck. I'll accept this story because it sounds less germy than dying of salmonella or e-coli or some other pigeon disease. (I had enough time between the call and the visit to look up "pigeon germs" on the internet).

She also shared that they cremate all the dead animals and then make the remains into mulch to feed the city's plants. Maybe this will save a bit of taxpayer money.