This cat just couldn’t stand it. All those juicy big birds. Why eat a mouse? Two minutes later the cat was flattened to the ground, pretending delirium to save its idiotic life. Because turkeys legs are ninety-inches long and they can run-walk far faster than it can bolt in terror.
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This hawk is so forward. It just sits over the birdfeeding table in the winter skeleton of the highbush cranberry tree and waits until an unsuspecting wild bird comes to feed….. But I have to ask? Isn’t there an alarm watchguard? Besides me?…. What bird would come? Really. Don’t they tell one another there is a hawk in the tree. Isn’t there a warrior watch like on Tinkerbell? Besides me? Because that is what I feel like, running out there and yelling, throwing old carrots left for the deer, waving towels at the hawk. Me, warning the birds…. Does the bird that is nabbed and ‘et’ each day actually have a falling out with the other birds, therefore they will not tell him? … So it’s just me then, I’m the guard….
Forgive me if I am a bit cranky, but that is what the exotics pets said to me. The elder, smart-arsed cat said I am essentially a turnip. Rule number one with exotic pets, very old dogs and grandfather-like cats is to never break routine no matter how cold you are or unglamorous you look…. Do I hear the cat upchucking? Are the skunks in his food already? Oh man, lots of windows. Snowplow guy can see me. I cover my abundant bikini-clad arse with the not-large-enough blue dog bowl. Wade through skunks to get in the door. Shuffle through the kitchen with a pant leg dragging. No puke. No no, wait for it…