.... but not one you want to hear at 2am.
A little revelation about life in the laundry pile. The Professor snores.
The kids insist that I do and given my history of sinus issues, I just might. On the other hand, when I do snore, I wake myself up, adjust, and go back to sleep.
When the Professor snores - He just sleeps right through it. I, however, do not.
so out of the kindness of his sweet heart he often sleeps on the couch.
It was that same sleeping arrangement was had going for us the night we were talking about 'the bird'.
He came and got me about 2am. 'Comfy, the cat dragged in something and has it cornered. It's screaming. I could use some back-up.'
Great. Jack Oy, the Porch Cat strikes again. Through the doggy door he has delivered a frog and a crawdad. In the back yard, he's delived two small bunny carcasses for the dog to de-fuzz.
I go toward this book shelf where the cat is pacing back and forth. The object of his attention is behind a stack of folders and clipboards.
The professor sits on the couch.
I thought I was the back up??
I pull the binders away until something jumps up at me. I yelp and hop back. My first thought was 'frog'. Then I discover that the screaming hopping thing in my house - is actually a small bird.
not a baby as far as my eye can determine. just a small bird.
I should also mention that it's raining outside. Which might explain why the bird got in Jack's mouth and why Jack decided to bring it in to snack upon.
I catch the bird between a clipboard and plastic container that had been discarded by a kid. I take him out front, but the entire thing on the porch. I take the plastic container back and step back. I didn't want him to decide to peck at me.
Bird just sits there.
He doesn't look broken. but What do I know??
I stare at him. He stares at me.
I decide, 'Forget it. It's after 2 am. You're on your own.'
I wish him luck and go back inside. I flop back in the bed and hopefully I don't snore.
3am. "Comfy. The bird's back."
Swell. Just swell.
This time it's behind a fan and the fireplace.
This time it's got the attention of Gizmo. I guess the dog wanted to pull the feathers off the bird like he'd done to the bunny and its fuzz. (ew)
But darn it. I left my clipboard outside. So I get a cheap (ha!) plastic plate (For a flat surface)
I get another plastic container and take Bird back outside.
This time I put him on top of our shrubs. I KNOW Jack can't climb on top of them. So if he's going to get to the bird, he's going to have to work at it.
Realizing that I've just served up a bird on a plate, I watch him to see if I can tell whether or not he's wounded. Jack is purring against my legs.
I'm guessing he's grateful?
I wait a good 10 - 15 minutes. The bird just sits there.
I decide that at this point, the bird can be cat food. I'm going back to bed.
I go back inside and put the fan in front of the doggy door. If Bird gets eaten, it won't be inside.
As I'm resettling myself back in bed, the storms open up and the rains pour out. Poor Bird won't be flying, I guess. But that also means Jack's gonna get wet.
I figure it serves him right.
The Professor tells me that Jack was found scowling at the back door in the morning.
The plate was still in place on the shrub and no bird carcass could be found.
I can only hope that the plate was a safe haven and not a serving platter.
It's given us something to laugh about.
But we all agree...
bird is not the word we want to hear in the middle of the night.