Une Histoire Triste: The Parisian Pigeon

Two days ago on my way home late at night I found a pigeon sitting on my apartment doorstep. It was late at night so I closed the door carefully behind me so that I wouldn't hurt or scare him. The next mourning on my way out (pour faire des soldes!) the pigeon had migrated into the building and was sitting quietly in front of someone's apt. door. Worried that something was really wrong with the poor bird, I called M to have him call animal control/outreach/rescue/whateveryoucallit but when he went to go look for the pigeon, he was gone. Sighing with relief, we hoped that it had found its way through the garden and was fine! Unfortunately, that night when we came home, the pigeon had made its way across the garden and had stationed itself in the doorway of our building. Seeing as it was too late to call animal rescue, we left the call to today. Unfortunately, when M and I left this morning for work, we were devastated to find that the pigeon had not moved and was lying dead in the exact spot that we had left it the night before. 

Now, I know that it is just a pigeon, but a pigeon is still a living thing. Somehow I feel personally responsible for his death, even though he probably would have died even if we had called animal rescue. I have been thinking of the pigeon all day and how M had to pick it up and throw it away. What an awful way to go - and I cant help thinking that in the last two days he had slowly migrated closer and closer to us almost as if he were asking for help. I know thats probably going way too far... but I cant help but feel guilty for not trying harder to save him. 

R.I.P. Parisian Pigeon.