It started out like any regular normal morning. I got up and made myself a cup of tea. I came into the office to do the morning ritual of reading email, blogs, news, etc. And as usual there were any number of cats perched on all the cat furniture things in front of the window.
Then I heard it. A sad, plaintive, mournful cry. Where was it coming from? I got up and looked in each room. I looked in the closet just in case one of the cats had gotten themselves stuck in there. Finally I was able to discern that it was coming from outside. Aha! Some stupid cat had snuck out when someone was on their way to work. Bad kitty!
I never let the cats out before noon. The morning time is when the early birds are getting the worms, or bugs or whatever the hell it is that the early birds get. And it is unfair for these cats to go out there and upset the balance and start killing off birds who are just getting their breakfast on.
Back to the story. I couldn't figure out the sound, but I opened the front door and in trotted Angus MacPhee. Angus "the serial bird killer" MacPhee. Bad Angus. And he has a "mostly dead" bird in his jaws and is going "Mmmm Rowwwr" which sounds like he is trying to meow with a bird in his mouth and it is coming out more like he is gargling. I then had to scoop up the killer and the victim and toss them both outside. Sorry, I know someone is going to ask why I didn't try to save the bird, but I have done this too many times and it always ends badly. Better to get the killing over with quickly rather than to let him linger in pain while the damn cat keeps batting it around. Oh, that Angus is a wee little killer. He is all small and cute. Skinny, stripey, scrappy and feisty, he is. A cute, skinny, killing machine.
After I tossed his killing ass back outside, he went right back to yowling/gargling "mmmrowwr" at the front door. Like a freaky homicidal maniac trying to get in. Or maybe like a stalker cat who wants to show off his kill to the other fatter, lazier cats who slept in.
And now? It is the afternoon and Ole Killer McKillerstein is curled up taking a nap. But where is his brother? Yes, Angus MacPhee has a brother. His name is Fergus Jackson MacPhee. At last check Fergus was outside playing with the dead bird. Rolling around with it, throwing it up in the air, and trying to get it to "play" some more. That poor bird has had a bad day, is what he has had.
You should be thankful that I decided today would not be a blog-with-pictures kind of day.
LMAO! See, I was totally thinking that next time you needed to snag a pic or video of Angus "Serial Bird Killer" McPhee. Oh, and can I borrow him to come play with my birdies? Actually, I take that back. I had a very frank eye-to-eye discussion with the bird that was pecking the hell out of my house. He has quit that nonsense. It might be because he either was the dead bird our dogs found in the backyard or because he's the bird now trapped in the laundry vent....
ReplyDeleteI might need to blog about the baby bunny we have living in our backyard...
Bwahahaha! So funny! My cats were always indoor cats, well except one who kept running out the door. Then he'd hide under the car and MOW until we came out to get him. But he never came to us. He always made one of us shimmy under the car to where he was at. Good times.
ReplyDeleteUm, you know what I have to say on this.
ReplyDeleteYour story starts my heart a fluttering and my hands to trembling. I have traumatic stress disorder when it comes to dead birds.
I don't think Moronica and Moroni actually kill the birds. They're too sweet for that and they're scared of everything. They don't realize they're bigger than most of the creatures in our yard, but they sure know how to find the dead things.
Your kitty was bringing you a gift. Our cat used to bring us dead squirrels, depositing them right on the welcome mat. Thank the Lord, she's gotten too fat and lazy for that.