Monday, July 30, 2012


Sometimes, this living in a rural setting gets a bit too real, ya know? I like Nature, really, but I prefer it to stay outside.

It was a quiet night. The girls were down, Miles was over a friends' house doing emergency tech support and I was in bed, engrossed in a big, chewy biography of Catherine the Great. The window was open, with delicious cool air pouring in, the sound of crickets singing. It was bucolic as all hell.

So, Catherine was about to depose her worthless husband in a bloodless coup, when from outside, weird bird sounds erupted. Sounded like something had surprised the heck out of some sleeping bird.

That was weird. Ah, well....

(Someday, I will learn that when something sounds "weird", I should investigate. That day was not this day.)

Shortly thereafter, Miles came home. He stuck his head into the Boudoir, and I asked, "So, did you go to Trader Joe's?" We were outta milk.

"Gaak! I forgot. It's 8:45; I still have time." He ducked back out and headed downstairs. I turned back to Catherine.

"Jen. C'mere."

You know that tone? It's sort of flat, un-inflected, the sound of not good things to come. Miles used that tone.

Oh, shit. I got out of bed, and took my glass of wine with me, for strength.

Miles was at the bottom of the stairs, looking at the floor. Scruffy was crouched on the stairs, lashing his tail back and forth, his whiskers full of feathers. On the floor,, was a bird, flopping around in it's mortal agonies, gasping it's final breaths, and squeaking.

Miles looked up, and said in a stricken voice, "I stepped on it."


Miles went for gloves to remove the victim, as I chased the cat away from his kill. Scruff was all excited; galloping around the living room and pouncing randomly. Clearly, he was very proud of himself. I eventually managed to scoop up the cat and toss him out the door. Meanwhile, Miles had found his leather work gloves and scooped up the casualty.

"We're gonna need the shop vac," I said, looking at all the feathers on the stairs.

"I still need to get to TJs. I have 10 minutes!" And with that, the man left.

I got the vacuum and started to suck up the evidence, when I noticed a gooey wet splotch on the stairs.



Yuck. Miles did say he stepped on the poor thing.


 I was back in bed, when suddenly, it occurred to me. Where was Scruffy going with that bird? He was heading up the stairs......



  1. I love being at your place because it is beyond beautiful and so dang peaceful. But stuff like this....makes me feel relieved that I live in the city. You were there in the car with me. ;)

    1. The world is not yet ready for the story of you and the spider. Unless you want to tell it. Which could be great fun!

  2. At least my cats don't bring their prizes to the bedroom. Usually, for some odd reason, birds go to the bathtub, and snakes go to the base of the stairs.

    1. I'd be okay if Scruffy just went ahead and ate the bird. I mean, circle of life and all that. Also: snakes?!!? Holy shit!