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I was in my backyard playing, when I heard a squawk and noticed that my dog was messing with something. I went over there and saw her trying to eat a baby bird. I shooed her away and looked over the birdy. It was breathing heavily and kept chirping when I went to touch it. I felt very sorry for it so I went inside and looked on Google to see what I should do. There were a lot of options, but in the end, I put together a little bed(a Life box and a towel) and put the birdy inside. I brought it in the house and my dumb-ass of a step-father told me to put it on the fridge outside because he is too insensitive to care about it. I did put it outside, but before that I wondered what it eats. I didn’t know how old it was, because it had all of its feathers, but it was still pretty small. I decided to take small peices of bread and put them in front of its face. It didn’t eat them right away, but I really hope that it does at some point. That little birdy looked so helpless. I really felt sorry for it. I thought to myself, “Is this how God feels when He helps us? And what about when He let’s us handle things ourselves?”
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