I was late, as usual. “Jeez, Connie,” I wheezed to myself at step 35 of the interminable stairs to her door. “At least put a bench halfway so a girl can rest.”

My sister’s house sat far above the street, steep banks on 3 sides, lightly manicured back yard giving way at the fence line to the tangled chaparral of the national park . No sign of Choco, their bouncy golden doodle.

I trudged to the front porch and sat on the top step to catch my breath. There was a strong breeze coming from the east and I turned my head toward it, eyes closed. Mmm. Jasmine. Connie’s signature scent.

A bang. I turned to see the front door had blown open. A ruckus rose and fell from inside. Jimmy dashed by to the right, on his way down the hall. He was giggling, his arms outstretched toward whatever he was chasing. Choco bounded behind. I was halfway to my feet when there was a loud crash and the sound of glass breaking, followed by another crash and the sound of metal rolling. A nanosecond of silence was split by two loud shrieks, one from Connie, the other from Dongle the parrot who, since I’d last seen him, had incorporated a whole new string of curses into his repertoire. And then the babies, almost but not quite in sync, chimed in. “Oh, no. Oh, no. Oh. No Oh, no.” I sprinted to the kitchen and stopped in the doorway, gaping.

Connie’s freakishly neat kitchen was coated in fine white powder. Dongle’s enormous cage lay on its side, half in the laundry room, half in the kitchen, the shape of its wire bars outlined neatly in white beneath it on the floor. Dongle was fluttering and shrieking curses above his cage. Bird seed was scattered everywhere. A bag of flour, a mixing bowl, a measuring cup full of milk, and wooden spoons lay on the island counter; a larger bowl overturned at the edge. Connie looked at me, eyes wide. Flour streaked her face and hair. In one hand was a partly unwrapped stick of butter; in the other, the bottom half of a medium-sized iguana, dripping blood onto her new linoleum.

“Holy crap, Connie.”

She blinked and looked down at her hands, unseeing. When it finally registered what she was holding she shrieked again and dropped the lizard’s body on the floor where it writhed like a mechanical toy. She stared at it for a moment, then her body gave an involuntary shudder. Moaning softly, sat suddenly on the floor, as if her legs just couldn’t support her any more. She buried her face in her hands, realized what was on her hands, and shrieked again, rubbing them frantically on her apron. The twins crawled a few feet away from her and began finger painting in the blood-streaked flour on the floor. Connie didn’t notice. Down the hall, Choco barked from Jimmy’s room. Jimmy was laughing so I returned my attention to the scene in front of me.

“Connie, what happened?”

From the floor, Connie drew a shaky breath. “Oh, God, Trish. We were just making cookies,” she said in a dazed voice. “Well…Jimmy had Dongle out, just finished cleaning his cage. Next he was gonna do the hamster’s cage.” She started to rub her eyes, remembered just in time, and withdrew them. “ I guess Jack forgot to put Scooter back in her cage when he left for school this morning. Normally that’s not a big deal, she just wanders around looking for flies…” she trailed off, looking around, her eyes lighting on Dongle. They narrowed speculatively. “I always thought parrots were seed-eaters.”

I blanched as I got her drift.

“We dropped some chocolate chips and I guess Scooter thought they were flies. I don’t know what Dongle thought Scooter was. Next thing I know…” she looked at me with tears in her eyes. “At least Jimmy wasn’t in the room when…” she gestured at Scooter, still writhing but you could tell it was almost done. ““Oh, dear God, where’s the other half?” Her voice rose. “Where’s Jimmy?” There was a hint of panic in her voice.

“Jimmy’s in his room with Choco, I heard them laughing a minute ago.”

She turned to look behind her and finally noticed what the twins were playing with.

“OH, gross!!” she grabbed a twin in each arm and turned to leave the room just as Dongle launched himself from his perch and flew down the hall toward Jimmy’s room. I set off after him, calling over my shoulder. ”Don’t worry, parrots don’t eat hamsters.”

Suddenly, Jimmy shrieked.