A Dave Story.
Anyone who's seen Dave (fatdave)
and Spike out on the town will probably never forget them. Those who have seen them together at shows are even less likely to forget them. Together, they are quite the sight.
It all started a few years ago when Dave was walking to the store to get bread. He saw a creature sitting by the side of the road. It was small, and just about the ugliest thing he had ever seen. So of course he went over to investigate it. He figured it was a bird, a baby bird. Didn't have a clue about what kind of bird, but it was messed up looking. Dave bent down and touched it. It squawked and spewed forth a horrible smelling vomit and tried to get away from him. Dave was enchanted. Birds don't puke, he thought, as he followed the bird down into the ditch that lined the road. The bird seemed injured, so Dave was a little worried about it. He started signing to it, and it calmed down. Dave and the bird stared at each other for awhile. The bird cocked its head to the side, then approached Dave. He saw that it was for sure injured, so he decided that if it would let him, that he'd take it home. Dave sat his behind down in the grass, and waited to see if the bird was down for a trip to his house. Sure enough, it wasn't long before the bird was sitting on Dave's knee.
He gathered up the little bird and tucked it inside his jacket. It puked again, but there wasn't much left in its stomach, so it wasn't too foul. Forgetting about the bread he was on a mission to buy, Dave turned toward home. He knew that his mother wouldn't be too happy about his new friend, so Dave snuck it into his bedroom. He made the bird a little bed in a cardboard box, and went to steal some of his mother's bird seed from the feeders outside. When he returned to his room and tried to get the bird to eat the seed, it wouldn't touch it. It sat there giving him a look that plainly said "What the fuck is this?" Dave sighed and decided that the little bird was just too sick to want to eat. He tucked it under his jacket again and headed to the vets office.
The receptionist at the vets office was appalled at what Dave pulled out from his coat. "What in gods name is that?!" she asked.
"It's my bird," Dave said, "he's sick."
She seemed unsure of what to do, but decided that if he was crazy enough to carry around such a creature, he might just be crazy enough to pay the vet to look at it. She handed him some paperwork to fill out.
Dave filled in his name and address, but was puzzled at the next blank, name of pet. He thought for a moment, then wrote down "Spike." In the spot for type of pet, he wrote "bird," then handed the forms back to the receptionist. She told him the Doctor would be with him shortly.
Dave sat down in the waiting room, and set Spike on the floor to investigate. Spike hopped around the room, looking into the plants and cawing at the office cat.
"Spike. Spike," called a voice from a door next to the reception desk. "Come right this way." Dave picked up Spike and followed the girl to a room with a steel examination table. He placed Spike upon this table, and smiled at the girl.
"What kind of bird is he?" she asked.
"I dunno." said Dave.
"Hm..... the vet will be in a moment." she said as she walked out of the room, shutting the door quickly behind her.
Sure enough, the vet came in a moment. "What have we here?" he chuckled. "Is that a buzzard?"
"I don't know." said Dave, again.
The vet stepped up to Spike and gave him the once over. "It sure is. This little fellow's a Turkey Vulture. About 12 weeks old, I'd guess. Where'd you get him?"
"I found him."
"Not exactly a kitten, this one. I'll call the animal rescue folks, they'll take care of him for you."
"No." said Dave. "He's mine."
The vet paused a moment. "He probably won't live out the week if he's not properly cared for. And even if you do everything right, he'll still probably die. Wild animals aren't meant to be pets."
Dave thought about it, then said "tell me how to take care of him, and we'll get by."
"I don't think I can help you very much. His wing looks broken, I can put a splint on that, but I'm not a wild animal vet. I can tell you a couple people to talk to who care for these kinds of animals though, and they can steer you in the right direction."
"Ok."
The vet shook his head, then put a splint on Spike's wing. He didn't charge Dave anything, because he was sure that bird would be dead within a couple of days, and he was thinking how the story of the boy who brought in a turkey vulture would be a good one for parties. He was a pretty decent guy, that vet.
Dave took Spike home, called up the people that the vet had recommended and got an idea of how to take care of Spike. Then he got online and found out more. He went and got a container of month old pot roast out of the refridgerator, and set it in front of Spike. Spike lifted his little head, sniffed the air, then dove into the container. 10 minutes later, he stepped out of it, looking as content as any cat who had just caught a canary. Spike wobbled over to Dave's bed, hopped up on it, then laid down and went to sleep.
The weeks went by, and Spike didn't die. Rather, Spike's wing healed and he grew. He grew lots! He really seemed to like Dave too, and Dave certainly doted on Spike. Dave would spend hours after school walking the roads, looking for Spike's dinner. He brought all sorts of dead animals into his bedroom, and Spike devoured them all. When he couldn't find roadkill, Dave would cruise to the dumpster behind the grocery store and dive in to pick out all the meat he could find.
Spike learned things quickly. Dave taught him to not shit in his bedroom, and how to walk on a leash outside. Dave would let him off the leash sometimes, and Spike was beginning to learn how to fly again. But most of all, he learned to listen to Dave. Dave gave that bird everything he needed, and Spike got nice and fat. Of course, Dave couldn't hide Spike from his mom for very long. She was pissed, but when Dave demonstrated just how good Spike was, she relented. She said that Spike could stay, but only if he lived in the garage. Dave agreed, and promtly moved both Spike and himself into the garage.
Within the year, Spike was full grown. His head, which had been black, turned bright red. His body was 2 feet long, and his wingspan grew from nil to 6 feet. The wing that had been broken seemed good as new, and when Dave would turn Spike loose outside, Spike would soar above the house, a magnificent looking creature from a distance. Up close, he was still as ugly as they come, but Dave loved him regardless. They were slowly becoming inseperable. When Dave would go to school, Spike would sit at the door the whole day waiting for him to come home. Dave took to staying at home, neglecting his friends because he didn't want poor Spike to be sad. His friends would come over, but the bird scared some of them, and they wouldn't stay long.
One night Dave was sitting in front of his computer, talking to one of his friends via IM. Spike was sitting beside him, and Dave would reach over and scratch his head every couple of minutes. His friend asked him if he was going to come into town for the show the next night. Dave sighed and looked at Spike. No, he typed, gonna stay home with Spike.
But its your favorite band, the screen flashed. Bring Spike with you.
Dave realized that he had never even thought of taking Spike with him into town. He quickly typed a repy. All it said was "ok."
And so the next day, Dave and Spike caught a ride into New Orleans with one of his friends who was a big Spike fan, and they went to the show. Dave had thought it out, Turkey Vultures, he knew, had an alright sense of sight, and a really good sense of smell, but their hearing isn't that great. He was still a little worried about just how loud it would be, so he made little ear covers for Spike out of cotton balls and duct tape.
He shouldn't have worried. Spike loved the show. He loved all the attention he got, and he loved the dead mice he found in the bathroom. Dave was delighted that Spike liked going out. It would make life much more interesting. From that day on, whenever a hardcore or metal band came to town, Dave and Spike were there. Bands sometimes came to New Orleans just to see Spike. They all had their pictures taken with him, and Spike would really ham it up for the camera. They loved Spike. Dave trained Spike to fly up onto the stage, circle, then fly down into the crowd. He nearly put out one kids eye one night, but that only added to Spike's fame.
Thats how things are. Spike likes going out so much that you can frequently see him and Dave down on Decatur, walking from bar to bar on nights when there isn't a show to go to. A few bars welcome Spike inside, but most of them don't. The places that don't care for Spike don't get much business. The places that let him in, let him sit on the bar, well, everyone goes to those places. Some nights, when Dave doesn't have much money, he'll sit on a street corner with Spike. He'll put a hat out in front of them, and run Spike through some of his tricks. The tourists eat it up and empty their pockets.
Spike is an amazing bird. There's not much out there on this green earth that is uglier than him, but it just adds to his charm in a kind of twisted way. And he gets more famous by the day. Dave said the other night that he'd gotten a phone call from one of his favorite bands who want to use Spike's picture on their next album cover. He agreed to it, because Dave loves how people love Spike. It's hard to imagine New Orleans without Spike and Dave, and here's to a long life for the both of them!
and Spike out on the town will probably never forget them. Those who have seen them together at shows are even less likely to forget them. Together, they are quite the sight.
It all started a few years ago when Dave was walking to the store to get bread. He saw a creature sitting by the side of the road. It was small, and just about the ugliest thing he had ever seen. So of course he went over to investigate it. He figured it was a bird, a baby bird. Didn't have a clue about what kind of bird, but it was messed up looking. Dave bent down and touched it. It squawked and spewed forth a horrible smelling vomit and tried to get away from him. Dave was enchanted. Birds don't puke, he thought, as he followed the bird down into the ditch that lined the road. The bird seemed injured, so Dave was a little worried about it. He started signing to it, and it calmed down. Dave and the bird stared at each other for awhile. The bird cocked its head to the side, then approached Dave. He saw that it was for sure injured, so he decided that if it would let him, that he'd take it home. Dave sat his behind down in the grass, and waited to see if the bird was down for a trip to his house. Sure enough, it wasn't long before the bird was sitting on Dave's knee.
He gathered up the little bird and tucked it inside his jacket. It puked again, but there wasn't much left in its stomach, so it wasn't too foul. Forgetting about the bread he was on a mission to buy, Dave turned toward home. He knew that his mother wouldn't be too happy about his new friend, so Dave snuck it into his bedroom. He made the bird a little bed in a cardboard box, and went to steal some of his mother's bird seed from the feeders outside. When he returned to his room and tried to get the bird to eat the seed, it wouldn't touch it. It sat there giving him a look that plainly said "What the fuck is this?" Dave sighed and decided that the little bird was just too sick to want to eat. He tucked it under his jacket again and headed to the vets office.
The receptionist at the vets office was appalled at what Dave pulled out from his coat. "What in gods name is that?!" she asked.
"It's my bird," Dave said, "he's sick."
She seemed unsure of what to do, but decided that if he was crazy enough to carry around such a creature, he might just be crazy enough to pay the vet to look at it. She handed him some paperwork to fill out.
Dave filled in his name and address, but was puzzled at the next blank, name of pet. He thought for a moment, then wrote down "Spike." In the spot for type of pet, he wrote "bird," then handed the forms back to the receptionist. She told him the Doctor would be with him shortly.
Dave sat down in the waiting room, and set Spike on the floor to investigate. Spike hopped around the room, looking into the plants and cawing at the office cat.
"Spike. Spike," called a voice from a door next to the reception desk. "Come right this way." Dave picked up Spike and followed the girl to a room with a steel examination table. He placed Spike upon this table, and smiled at the girl.
"What kind of bird is he?" she asked.
"I dunno." said Dave.
"Hm..... the vet will be in a moment." she said as she walked out of the room, shutting the door quickly behind her.
Sure enough, the vet came in a moment. "What have we here?" he chuckled. "Is that a buzzard?"
"I don't know." said Dave, again.
The vet stepped up to Spike and gave him the once over. "It sure is. This little fellow's a Turkey Vulture. About 12 weeks old, I'd guess. Where'd you get him?"
"I found him."
"Not exactly a kitten, this one. I'll call the animal rescue folks, they'll take care of him for you."
"No." said Dave. "He's mine."
The vet paused a moment. "He probably won't live out the week if he's not properly cared for. And even if you do everything right, he'll still probably die. Wild animals aren't meant to be pets."
Dave thought about it, then said "tell me how to take care of him, and we'll get by."
"I don't think I can help you very much. His wing looks broken, I can put a splint on that, but I'm not a wild animal vet. I can tell you a couple people to talk to who care for these kinds of animals though, and they can steer you in the right direction."
"Ok."
The vet shook his head, then put a splint on Spike's wing. He didn't charge Dave anything, because he was sure that bird would be dead within a couple of days, and he was thinking how the story of the boy who brought in a turkey vulture would be a good one for parties. He was a pretty decent guy, that vet.
Dave took Spike home, called up the people that the vet had recommended and got an idea of how to take care of Spike. Then he got online and found out more. He went and got a container of month old pot roast out of the refridgerator, and set it in front of Spike. Spike lifted his little head, sniffed the air, then dove into the container. 10 minutes later, he stepped out of it, looking as content as any cat who had just caught a canary. Spike wobbled over to Dave's bed, hopped up on it, then laid down and went to sleep.
The weeks went by, and Spike didn't die. Rather, Spike's wing healed and he grew. He grew lots! He really seemed to like Dave too, and Dave certainly doted on Spike. Dave would spend hours after school walking the roads, looking for Spike's dinner. He brought all sorts of dead animals into his bedroom, and Spike devoured them all. When he couldn't find roadkill, Dave would cruise to the dumpster behind the grocery store and dive in to pick out all the meat he could find.
Spike learned things quickly. Dave taught him to not shit in his bedroom, and how to walk on a leash outside. Dave would let him off the leash sometimes, and Spike was beginning to learn how to fly again. But most of all, he learned to listen to Dave. Dave gave that bird everything he needed, and Spike got nice and fat. Of course, Dave couldn't hide Spike from his mom for very long. She was pissed, but when Dave demonstrated just how good Spike was, she relented. She said that Spike could stay, but only if he lived in the garage. Dave agreed, and promtly moved both Spike and himself into the garage.
Within the year, Spike was full grown. His head, which had been black, turned bright red. His body was 2 feet long, and his wingspan grew from nil to 6 feet. The wing that had been broken seemed good as new, and when Dave would turn Spike loose outside, Spike would soar above the house, a magnificent looking creature from a distance. Up close, he was still as ugly as they come, but Dave loved him regardless. They were slowly becoming inseperable. When Dave would go to school, Spike would sit at the door the whole day waiting for him to come home. Dave took to staying at home, neglecting his friends because he didn't want poor Spike to be sad. His friends would come over, but the bird scared some of them, and they wouldn't stay long.
One night Dave was sitting in front of his computer, talking to one of his friends via IM. Spike was sitting beside him, and Dave would reach over and scratch his head every couple of minutes. His friend asked him if he was going to come into town for the show the next night. Dave sighed and looked at Spike. No, he typed, gonna stay home with Spike.
But its your favorite band, the screen flashed. Bring Spike with you.
Dave realized that he had never even thought of taking Spike with him into town. He quickly typed a repy. All it said was "ok."
And so the next day, Dave and Spike caught a ride into New Orleans with one of his friends who was a big Spike fan, and they went to the show. Dave had thought it out, Turkey Vultures, he knew, had an alright sense of sight, and a really good sense of smell, but their hearing isn't that great. He was still a little worried about just how loud it would be, so he made little ear covers for Spike out of cotton balls and duct tape.
He shouldn't have worried. Spike loved the show. He loved all the attention he got, and he loved the dead mice he found in the bathroom. Dave was delighted that Spike liked going out. It would make life much more interesting. From that day on, whenever a hardcore or metal band came to town, Dave and Spike were there. Bands sometimes came to New Orleans just to see Spike. They all had their pictures taken with him, and Spike would really ham it up for the camera. They loved Spike. Dave trained Spike to fly up onto the stage, circle, then fly down into the crowd. He nearly put out one kids eye one night, but that only added to Spike's fame.
Thats how things are. Spike likes going out so much that you can frequently see him and Dave down on Decatur, walking from bar to bar on nights when there isn't a show to go to. A few bars welcome Spike inside, but most of them don't. The places that don't care for Spike don't get much business. The places that let him in, let him sit on the bar, well, everyone goes to those places. Some nights, when Dave doesn't have much money, he'll sit on a street corner with Spike. He'll put a hat out in front of them, and run Spike through some of his tricks. The tourists eat it up and empty their pockets.
Spike is an amazing bird. There's not much out there on this green earth that is uglier than him, but it just adds to his charm in a kind of twisted way. And he gets more famous by the day. Dave said the other night that he'd gotten a phone call from one of his favorite bands who want to use Spike's picture on their next album cover. He agreed to it, because Dave loves how people love Spike. It's hard to imagine New Orleans without Spike and Dave, and here's to a long life for the both of them!