DAMN BIRD!!!

Dear Practical Sister,


YOUR parakeet is an anti-social, semi-suicidal, psychopath.  She doesn't like people, she doesn't like other birds, and she has a thing about taunting predators ten times her size.  I do not like your bird.  In fact, my semi-tolerant dislike has now morphed into active hatred.

YOUR stupid bird taunted the cats most of the morning with her "Na-na-na-na-na, you can't GET me," chirp, shaking her tail feathers at them and just being generally... well... DUMB.  And I kept them off her.  But I had to take the kids to school, and in the rush to make sure they all remember their stuff, and to get them out the door AT THE SAME TIME, I wasn't going to stop and put her in the bathroom and close the door, though I may have to from now on.  Because when I got home, her cage was on the floor, and I was treated to a cooperative venture between three cats who were working industriously to open the top of the cage.

The moment she saw me, she flew OUT the open door of the cage (which the cats hadn't noticed) and STRAIGHT AT THE CATS (which they DID notice).

The Impertinent Daughter would have said I should have just stood back and told you later that she died of natural causes.  Because, of course, what is more natural than being killed by predators??

But I didn't.  I rushed in to save your stupid, brainless, VICIOUS bird, and what did I get?

Blood, Bets.  Lots and lots of blood.  MY blood.

I do not mind losing a little blood in a good cause.  This was not a good cause.  Your bird BIT ME!!!  She BROKE THE SKIN!!  And I might need stitches!!!  DAMN BIRD!!!!

I almost made a parakeet pancake.  But I didn't.  I won't squish YOUR bird.  And I won't let the cats have her, if I can help it.  But next time you have a pet you decide you can't keep?  Don't call me.  Really.  Don't be surprised if you wake up one morning with a bird cage on your front door step, because I drove all the way up to North Texas to abandon it on your doorstep.

And in case I didn't mention it before???

I HATE YOUR DAMN BIRD!!!

No love,

The Brat

The Things That Go BANG In The Night

You know how it is, when you finally get to bed, you're so very tired, and your head hits the pillow? You pull the quilts up over your shoulder, snuggle into your warm, significant other, and just dive into sleep? It's wonderful, actually.

However...

There I was, drifting into one of those truly puzzling dreams I sometimes have, where this lady from the local feed store kept squawking, "Ye'gotta put yer hand up the chicken's cloacha (she pronounced it loudly, "clo-WACK-uh") and feel your way to the omnibus..."

Omnibus???

And THEN... there was this resounding BANG!! CRASH!! CLAAAANG!!! from the living room. I thought, damn, did the cats knock the cookie sheets off the counter?? Then I thought, no, they knocked the stereo off the bookcase, dammit. Then, I heard the frantic squawking, and sat up to shake the Husbandly One awake. "They knocked the bird cage down again!!"

He didn't want to get up. I can't blame him, really.

So I got up and went into the living room, turning on lights, fully expecting to see a slightly dismembered, though apparently still alive, parakeet hanging from either Muta or Calcifer's mouth. The cage (which is huge by the way) was on the floor, top off (because the cats have figured out how to take it off), there was bird seed, bird poop, and water everywhere, as well as potting soil, DVD's, and inexplicably, my kids' soccer shoes. The bird was behind the entertainment center, scolding the cats furiously, who were all stalking her, and I swear they all had that same smirk on their face that the Grinch gets when he's plotting something evil!! I grabbed the Instrument of Cat Discipline and started squirting like mad while shouting, "Honey, the cage is down, the bird is out, the cats know it... HELP ME, DAMMIT!!!"

It was not fun. Have I mentioned that this bird is psycho?? At one point, I had her in the kitchen, and almost got her to perch on my hand. Almost. At the last second, she flew shrieking at my face. I ducked, she flew into the dining room, the hall, and into the bathroom. As I followed, I discovered the dog had left me a nice, squishy, smelly, and still warm present in front of the bathroom door. It was not my night, was it?

The Husbandly One corraled Miss Stinky Anti-social Parakeet by taking the top part of the cage and slipping it over her in the bathroom. She flew up to escape, and thus became convinced she was trapped in her cage again. Apparently, thinking up diabolical plots to dismember us all with her beak takes up all her teeny, tiny brain power, and therefore, she was incapable of thinking, "Hey, all I gotta do is fly down and I'm outta here!!"

Stupid bird.

We got the cage put back together and she's back on her high spot. My morning will be occupied with removing bird seed and other... things... from the living room floor, the couch, the fish tank, the window sills, the ceiling fan, and probably a whole lot of other places I'll discover as I clean.

Did I mention how much I hate this bird?

*grabs broom, dustpan, bucket, sponges, and other cleaning supplies, muttering imprecations under her breath as she departs for the living room*