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|Aria of a Joyous Canary (standard:humor, 391 words)|
|Author: kathyg||Added: Apr 18 2004||Views/Reads: 2549/0||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|A canary with an unusual singing partner.|
My aunt Yvonne once had a canary who loved to sing along with her vacuum cleaner. For some reason, the sound of its motor filled the bird's heart with musical inspiration, and he would respond with counter-melodies that thrilled high above the roar. The canary demonstrated the extent of its dedication to art one unforgettable day when she decided to clean her draperies. As she hauled out the vacuum cleaner and attached the extension hose, the bird's delight at the prospect of making music with his favorite accompaniment was clearly visible. She turned on the machine, and the little bird responded with an aria seemingly inspired by the angels. My aunt eventually became so involved in her task that she didn't notice that her pet canary had emerged from its cage and had flown to the top of the curtain rod. As she lifted the vacuum, wanting to get into the drapery folds, she suddenly saw a flash of yellow disappear down the tube. Horrified, she immediately switched off the machine, certain her poor bird had, indeed, joined the angels. She paused, cocking her ear closer to the vacuum cleaner--and she heard the unmistakable sound of her bird's muffled song, emanating from within. "Keep singing, darling!" called my aunt. "Mama will save you!" She quickly unzipped the bag, and the bird's voice burst forth sweet and strong. Burrowing her hand deep into the dirt and dust bunnies, she at last cleared a pathway through which her pet could escape. The bird shot out from the bag like a bullet and landed on the coffee table: singing. With a new sense of awe and respect, my aunt gazed at her pet as he continued his symphony--despite the fact that his body had been stripped of all of its feathers. When I picture that little bird's perserverance in proclaiming his 'joie de vivre' to the world, I wonder what the world would be like if the human race could equal such dedication. What if we, like my aunt's canary, refused to let anything keep us from singing our own glorious song, so to speak? Whenever I think of that joyous little bird, I resolve to sing my own song loudly and clearly, uninhibited by whatever obstacles might threaten to silence me. It is, after all my gift to myself and to the world. Tweet
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