Death & Taxes.

Lady raced into the back of my parents’ yard, WOOFING mightily at her avian nemesis.

“Yeah, she won’t chase squirrels but she really hates the birds,” my Mom said in the West Virginia drawl that stayed with her through all of our moves. “When we had her DNA tested it turns out she’s part bird dog.”

“You had her DNA tested…? Are we trying to clear her of a felony charge…?” I asked. Oh, to be the rescued dog of retired folk, that is the sweetest life, I thought.

“Well yeees,” she stretched the affirmative into two Southern syllables. “She’s got some boxer in her, too, that’s why she’s always holding her paw up like that. An’ terrier. I’ll show you the print out.”

To my Mom, things from the Internet weren’t to be trusted unless they were printed out. She would clip articles from the newspaper and have my Dad scan and email them to me. She couldn’t understand why my sister and I posted pictures on Facebook without printing them. Their fridge was covered with photos from the last 30 years of our lives.

Lady stood at the bottom of a towering tree and WOOFED repeatedly, trying to intimidate an owl high above.

“Oooooh, that’s the bard owl, she HATES him!” mom exclaimed.

“Bard owl? As in, writer of poetry?” I wondered.

“Bard, BARD!” Mom was getting annoyed with my sass. “B - A - R - R - E - D.”

“Of course. Because it is… behind bars.” I caught myself before adding, Animal crime has become rampant in North Carolina.

“Amy Katherine!” Her exasperation always amused me. She was about to educate me on owls but interrupted herself, “No, it’s a barn owl.” The early morning light muted the bird’s silhouette.

“Shouldn’t it be living in a barn then…” My teasing had already gotten old. How much longer could I feign interest in her ornithological expertise? There’s no wildlife in LA, and I’m only here for a week.

Just then the owl swooped down from its lofty perch and plummeted toward Lady. Much like my mom with my witty banter, the owl had apparently had enough of her.

Lady gleefully scampered toward us and up the porch steps, wagging her tail in triumph. You could practically hear her thinking, “the day is mine!” She did a quick victory lap and trotted back out to patrol the perimeter.

“Yard is looking great, Mom,” I said in sincerity. They took huge satisfaction in their certification as an official Wildlife Habitat. It was issued by the Sierra Club or some group like that, and required that they have food and water for animals available year round. A plaque was hung with great pride on the driveway gate.

“Well, your father and I work hard on it. It’s good for us to get outside, but it can be a lot,” she said with a sigh. I felt the conversation was about to take a dark turn.

“We can talk about death, you know, it doesn’t bother us,” she said nonchalantly.

‘I know YOU can but I don’t wanna!’ my inner child cried.

“Your father has everything squared away, all organized and official,” she continued as though reviewing the ingredients of a family recipe with me.

“I know, Mom.” I was to be the executor of the estate, a role I did not ask for or want.

“He’s got everything on disk drives and printed out.”

Of course it’s all printed out. “I know, Mom, he gave me everything.”

“Well I just want you to know it doesn’t bother us. The lawyer has everything, and it’s all written down,” she repeated. “And remember the first thing to do is go to the safety deposit box and get that cash out.”

How could I forget? The bag of cash was part of their doomsday prepping, codeword “The Last Babylon.” My job was to get it before the damn IRS got their hands on it. I can’t deposit it all at once either, there was something important I had to remember about that. Ugh, I’m going to have to google ‘what to do with a bag of cash’ like a novice drug dealer.

How do we get off this topic? “So, Mom, are those owls the same ones as last year?”

She immediately perked up, “they had BABIES! Oh, they were so loud, it drove Lady absolutely nuts!”

The delicate tinkling sound of Lady’s collar approached.

“Ok, time to go in!” my mom announced. Lady dictated their schedule. She’d saved us from the ever-present menace of the owls and now it was time for breakfast.