There’s a first time for everything, I guess.
Got home from work Wednesday evening to find a bird in my kitchen. Followed him into the bathroom in an attempt to chase him outdoors.
No dice.
Since he wasn’t cooperating, and I wasn’t much in a chasing mood, Mr. BB Gun knocked my feathered intruder for a loop. He flew into the living room, where my over-fed cat was more than willing to pick up the pursuit. He finally got the little sucker on the floor, proceeded to attack relentlessly, and left it unmoving in the corner.
Dead, right?
Nope.
I emerge with broom and dustpan to clear up the remains when the winged Rasputin decided to make another break for it.
A quick smack from the broom convinced him to lie back down and gather his thoughts.
This time I pinched the aviary trespasser between the broom and dustpan, figuring this time he was either dead or maimed by then.
Took him outside, ready to launch the remains into my neighbor’s yard (sorry Marilyn) only to see him rise like a Phoenix and fly away to the nearest tree.
If I find any messes on my car, I’m getting a bigger gun.
