Know what's cool?

Dogs and birds. Together.

Because all animals are friends. No, really, I know it's true because Snow White made it so when she sang With a Smile and a Song and all the birds tweet-tweeted to her and chipmunks scampered and deer nuzzled, and then even a turtle arose from the pond (with a goddamn lily pad on its head, no less!)

But birds and dogs are an even simpler equation - and carry a bond of epic proportion.

You seek proof?

Okay, well, look no further, this is a tale that may very well be the next Disney movie, so sit up, grab a Hi-C and let's get going.

First some introductions are in order.

There's Bambi, our family dog (no, we didn't license the name, let's keep copyrights out of this); a Springer Spaniel - loving, cute, and friendly to children of all ages.

And to other animals, because Snow White showed us what's possible.

Then, there was my trusty parakeet, a mostly green thing with smatterings of yellow and red; a bird straight from the pet store, with the truest of names: Verdie the Birdie.

Yes, I named him. I was eight, okay?

Anyway, watching Snow White had me thinking that maybe I could recreate the magical bond between animals on my own - and what better place than in the bathroom when I was taking a shower. There would be steam, and maybe I'd even sing some sort of song, all while my pets frolicked.

Go ahead, I'll wait. Try to think of something more fun to do in the shower.

_{(actually...for this moment, just believe this is the most fun you can think of while taking a shower, thank you).}

I bring Verdie in first; he's a bit agitated after being ham-fisted from his seed-cob snack in his newspaper-floored cage, but he eventually settles nicely on the counter.

Then I sneak out and grab Bambi, who is excited in only the way a simple-minded family dog might be: she's going somewhere, anywhere, and that's good enough for her.

Truth be told, Bambi was as innocent as lamb's wool, and a willing participant. Take the time my older brother once tied Bambi's legs together with gimp, the plastic string we used at camp to make box-stitch lanyards and whistle holders. Four legs became two pairs as she wagged happily on the ground, tongue out, whimpering only slightly.

Which is all to say Bambi was open to new ideas, especially ones brought about by small children devising vicious experiments on their loving pet.

Okay okay, don't judge my brother, because many years earlier I frequented a pond with some friends for fishing and the like. Once we found a half-alive frog and - cover your ears - hooked it onto our fishing line, then took turns casting it as far as possible onto the pavement, slowly dragging it back. Eventually it was definitely not alive - and rather re-organized as if painted by Picasso.

But back to the bathroom, where the shower has been running hot and the air is thick with steam, and so now it feels as if we're on a concert stage or nearing the cloud layer on a mountain hike.

Verdie. Bambi. Me.

Everything is in the right place, and so now I get into the shower to begin some singing because Snow White made it clear this was all possible.

Soon enough, Bambi notices Verdie the Birdie is in the room and becomes agitated, barking wildly, spinning in circles, leaping up to the counter, attempting to make friends.

And Verdie the Birdie doesn't seem to like this at all; he begins flapping back and forth in the tiny space that is the bathroom, smacking the mirror, bouncing off the toilet, tangling in the blinds, feathers filling the air.

In all the chaos it is indeed difficult to carry a tune.

Then Bambi - willing and innocent Bambi - snaps her jaw blindly at just the right moment and, yoicks!, catches Verdie the Birdie flying at too low an altitude.

The bite is born more of curiosity than capture and Bambi surprises herself with success.

She drops Verdie and now I'm screaming like it's a scene from Psycho and holy god in high heavens, Verdie the Birdie is laying on the ground, tweet-bleating as if a balloon losing air. There's a canine puncture wound in his chest, spilling guts as if discolored glue from a class project.

Bambi is confused and loses interest, and I'm as nude as a barnyard fox, soaking wet, screaming hysterically, running around trying to understand why in tarnation dogs and birds can't just get along.

My parents hear the commotion and arrive to begin moderate CPR on Verdie, who is chirping toward the great gig in the sky.

Needless to say, this was all Snow White's fault. That's what I was trying to explain as we laid Verdie the Birdie to rest in a shallow grave in the backyard.

Years later, I'm reminded that cartoons offered plenty of great lessons, most of which should never be acted upon.

We're all fortunate I didn't take a page from Wile E. Coyote's playbook, or else I might've loaded the bathroom with Acme TNT, lit the fuse, and blown everyone to high heaven in an effort to scrub the pond muck from beneath my fingernails.