The New Kitty had something first in the dining room and then in the kitchen. In the dining room, I heard it squeak once, so I assumed it was a mouse. Good riddance, rodent. But it kept hollering, which is not how mice do. So I went to look and it was a god damn bird. Wet and mangled, but didn’t seem to be bleeding.
But still, as you do when you’re an adult, you go out looking for the heavy shovel to scoop it up with, so that when you have to kill it, it will be quick. But by the time I got the thing on the shovel, it appeared as if it might just be dazed and not near death.
So I put it in the strawberries and it made some good efforts to stumble away from me. I’m hoping it can dry out out there and get back to the business of being a bird.
As you can imagine, the new kitty is not happy with me. I tried to praise her, but when she figured out that we weren’t taking the bird outside to have more room to play with it, she came back in the house and is now sulking.