Bird...Bird, bird, bird, bird, bird

This comic should start things up nicely...

http://www.twolumps.net/d/20040428.html

Ok, come back to me...right now Polarhound and the hubby are laughing their butts off. Polarhound is having a big laugh cause he was front and center for the show this weekend in my house. But first, before I share with you...some backstory.

I have three cats. There's Mystic (18--old as dirt), Sterling (9--dumb as dogshit), and Sable (4--mischevious as hell). Mystic and Sable are fearless. Sterling is afraid of everything in this world. He's afraid of air. He's afraid of my fuzzy little bunny (it's a killer I tell you!).

Mystic and Sable leave me presents. Presents in the cat sense (see where this is going?). Now keep in mind...I only got Mystic when he was 15. Before I got him, he never went outside. Never caught a mouse...never killed a living thing. He sure as hell tried to kill other cats and dogs in the house cause Mystic don't take shit...but he never succeeded. However, when he moved in with me, I kept him in the basement at Kiki's house. And I also let him out. This is how much this cat came to love me. He gave me his first now...his first kill. So sweet. Unfortunately...Mystic's volatile nature showed in his killing. Mystic doesn't just leave me dead mice. He has been known to add a violent spin to his killings. I've been left mice with their brains bashed out...mice with an obvious claw to the brain, and mice skinned completely (yes skinned...one reason to not miss Buddy TSCGirl). While this is impressive to me in one sense...it's completely horrifying in the other. But I cover my horror and always show Mystic gratitude for the present ("Oh thank you sooooo much. Was this mooshed mouse for me?")

Sable...Sable was born to kill. She has always had access to the outside. And like a true girl...she always leaves me fresh clean, killed mice...usually on my dining room chair or in front of the door. Such a lady.

This summer, my cats (or cat in this case), have been leaving me...birds. I started finding dead birds in front of the door or at the bottom of the stairs in the back. No one was fessing up to who was doing it. However, the deaths were not extremely violent and while Mystic for his age if very active...I figured he wasn't the one climbing the trees to get to the birds. I dedueced it was Sable...and I soon found out first hand, I was right.

As I said, Polarhound was visiting this weekend. We were having a nice time and he was giving all my animals such wonderful attention. I was letting Sable in and out of the house because of the nice weather. On Sunday, I went to let Sable in out of habit and she came walking towards the door. However...she wasn't alone...in her mouth...was...a bird...

bird, bird, bird, bird, bird....

A pretty bird.

A cute, little, pretty, brown bird...

My first thought: Wow, that's talent...

Then after that second...I did the womanly shriek and "uhuuuh, uhuhhuh" followed with violent shaking and arm waving. I slammed the door in Sable's face (which in retrospect was very rude considering she was giving me a present...but hey, womanly instincts kicked in). As I stood at the door thanking Sable for my gift and begging her to drop it, Polarhound came up behind me. He glanced over my shoulder, and smiled at Sable bearing her gift. Then he dropped the bomb.

"It's not dead."

"WHAT?!"

I mean it looked dead...it was in her mouth...it's eyes weren't blinking (do birds even blink?), they were wide open like in fright...had to be dead. Turns out...Polarhound was right.

Sable softly dropped her present after lots of pleading from me and the bird just sat there, shocked. He wobbly tried to gain his bearings. Then Sable went in to scruff him again and

SWOOSH...bird went flying. Sable went running after it...but once it was airborne...birdie was gone with me calling after it "RUN LIKE THE WIND FOREST!"

After that I refused Sable entry until she got bird out of her mouth. (God I'm a mean mommy). We worked out our issues later...but Polarhound sure enjoyed the show.

Birdie BB