And it’s one thing bringing in a dead pigeon. Oh no, couldn’t do that. They brought a live one in. And it was quite healthy. And proceeded to race around the room with the cats running after it, at a safe distance of course. Well, Sushi raced after it at a safe distance. Nasdaq sat back about 7 feet and hissed at me like I was the problem, then she ran and hid under a chair behind half a curtain for the next 20 minutes, brave guard-cat that she is.
Sushi on the other hand, well, I’m not sure what Sushi thought he was doing. He kept following the bird, body pressed close to the carpet like the bird couldn’t see him from a foot away. But he refused to attack. He just kept, well, teasing the damn thing. I kept saying “get him, Sushi, sic him!” and the damn cat would just look at me, then walk the wrong way. I had to literally carry him and put him down in the front of the bird. Brave, yes. Smartest cat on the block, not so much. (And I wasn’t enjoying the scene, rather I was hoping Sushi would kill the poor thing and eat it, or take it outside – the bird was already injured, but I still didn’t have the heart to kill it myself.)
I ran to the hallway and rifled the closet – found some sheets, but they looked nice and figured Chris’ wife would shoot me. So I tried to catch the thing with a towel while wearing oven mitts (didn’t work so well). Next, tore through the kitchen and finally found just the trap. The salad-spinner thing that the French love so much. Threw that damn thing on the top of the bird, slipped a tray underneath, and got it out of here. Yeah, Chris’ wife probably won’t love that option either, but at this point, didn’t really care.
The cats are now outside, I assume chasing the pigeon yet again since I can hear it flopping around. F’g cats.