Every morning it was the same routine for Martin.

The 6.30 am scratch on the bedroom door, the gleeful kisses from a six year old Corkie, Spam, patiently waiting all night for his early morning run in the garden.

Next coffee and off for a walk with Spam, just around the neighbourhood. A few neighbours would be out walking as well. Martin chatted with each of them as they met. It was leisurely and somehow fulfilling.

Since retirement the routine seldom changed. Martin was in his early 70’s now, a widower, with Spam his loyal companion.

He often mused on the wonder of the smell of the early morning air and trees. Each day was fresh, an unwritten page with a time and life of its’ own.

On this particular day Martin wondered at the sameness of it all. My life is so predicable he thought, nothing changes. i must be in a very comfortable rut.

I must change that, no point in being the neighbourhood clock.

Suddenly an elderly woman, dressed in her bathrobe ran out from a house and started yelling “Fire, fire in my kitchen!”

Martin had never seen her before, since becoming a widower he seldom went out, except for his early morning and evening excursions with Spam.

The slender, grey haired woman was frantic.”Have you called the fire department ?,” he asked.  “Yes, yes they are on their way, but my budgie, he is in his cage.”  

Smoke was pouring out the kitchen window. “Where is he” Martin asked?  She gestured  wildly “Just in the front room, on the left.”

Martin charged through the front door, heavy smoke enveloping him as he went. Sure enough there was the birdcage, still covered from the previous night. He grabbed it and rushed out.

The sirens were right around the corner, they would be there in seconds, a crowd of onlookers were gathering around, curious, worried.  

“Thank you, Thank you” she said uncovering the bird,”Look, he is fine.” The budgie began to sing and talk. The woman began to croon and speak to the budgie. “Sweetie, sweetie, good birdie, pretty birdie.”

The firemen arrived pushing through the crowd, they had the fire out in what seemed like two minutes. She thanked them.

“Lucky no one else was home” a fireman said, “There is a lot of fire and smoke damage inside.”  

” Oh, well yes. There is my husband upstairs. He can sleep through anything.”  

Article by Barbara Smith.

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