Aria of a Joyous Canary (standard:humor, 391 words)
Author: kathyg	Added: Apr 18 2004	Views/Reads: 4177/0	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. 


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