Today, just as Evy and I were about to leave the house to check out a new grocery store . . . ever looking for a cheaper gallon of milk, I heard LOUD, frantic chirping. I wanted to make sure there wasn't a bird trapped in our porch or that Twiggy was waiting with a gift. I looked through the window and saw nothing. I opened the door slightly, and that was all Tricky Twiggy needed to zoom passed me, bringing a DYING bird in her mouth into my home.
Twiggy and I have a mutual understanding: She knows she annoys me. But, Erik and Everett really like her. No one wanted to adopt her. So, at this point, she is still our cat. The trade-off is that she is great with Everett and allows him to chase her everywhere.
But, bringing a dying birdy into the home crosses a line.
I shooed Twiggy away, tried to place Everett as far away as possible (Everett's faves BIRDS and CATS), and gently gathered the feathered friend into a bag so that it could pass in peace.
Then I had to place the birdy on the porch so that Twiggy couldn't get to her. I don't trust her at all and know that Erik can find a way to place this poor bird to rest appropriately when he gets home.
Frantic that some weird bird disease or germ had entered our home, I used Clorox wipes to clean the carpet and floor--shhhh, don't tell Erik, I think he'll have a heart attack--without caring if it bleached the carpet. It didn't. I have a toddler, people, he EATS off the floor.
BTW, anyone need a cat? She is good at catching, well, anything.
