Oberon let his instincts fly today. Oh, look, I made a punny! Seriously, though. . . Fahim and I were (calmly) sitting in the living room, reading or something like that, and there was a clatter at the window a few feet away. Oberon was trying madly to catch something and having a heck of a time. Finally, he caught whatever it was, the noise ended, and Oberon started walking towards me.
It was a bird.
The bird flew in the window through the grates right at Oberon. Oberon is just being a cat.
Anyway, Fahim and I figured out what was going on, and honestly, I don’t want a dead bird in my house. If Oberon wants to chew it, well, let him, but dammit it better be outside. So we shooed him to the balcony in the back. Oberon was not impressed. He wanted in the house, not out. Nope, nope, nope. OUT!
I commented to Fahim that maybe I should let the bird go, but Fahim, the fatalist, says, “Nope. It’s already dead, or if it isn’t, it will be anyway. No point.” Okay, Fahim, before you get yourself into a snot, I know you didn’t say that word for word, but the essence of what you said is there, and dang it all, I’m taking poetic license, so just be quiet for once, darling. But it was obvious to me that the bird was anything but dead, and maybe it should have a second chance at life. “Nope.”
I went on the balcony – patio – whatever – with Oberon so I could take pics of the bird. Yeah, I know, sadistic or sick or something like that. This isn’t news. A few pics later, and the bird’s still struggling to get out and away. Oberon repositions yon birdie in his mouth, birdie struggles, Oberon repositions, birdie struggles, Oberon repositions, birdie fly fly fly away and be free. Poor Oberon. Lost his new toy. Oberon sad.