I either saved a bird's life or I guaranteed it a slow and painful death. I'm not sure which.

I'm sitting in my office earlier and I hear this weird kind of squeaking noise. At first I thought it was a new stim I hadn't heard before so I just ignored it. But it sounded a lot like a bird and it was really loud. Plus Child 1 wasn't even in the room, so that kind of ruled out the "new stim" theory.

I get up and follow the noise and I find one of our cats has something in her clutches, and she has an audience; other cats were watching her work. She would bat at it, it would make these fluttering sounds, some squeaking sounds, and she would clamp down on it with her paws again. She was clearly torturing a bird. Bitch!

So I pick up a piece of hot wheels track, which we are fortunate enough to have fucking everywhere in our house, and I shoo the cat away with it, leaving behind this sad and definitely crippled bird who keeps trying to get up and fly away but can't.

I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do with this sad little birdie; this is the kind of thing that hubs usually deals with and he wasn't there. I do know that I can't just leave it on the floor of my TV room, though, so I use the hot wheels track to scoop it into a helmet which also just happens to be lying there on the floor (handy!) and I take the little thing outside.

Outside.... where all the cats were: waiting for us. I gently deposit the bird underneath the lavender bush and I, uh.... leave it there. To its fate? I guess? But I made sure to close the door behind me because I sure as hell don't want dead bird pieces all over my TV room!

Yeah, I'm pretty sure I did that wrong. Sorry, all birds everywhere. But what the hell else was I supposed to do with it? Flush it? Kill it with my bare hands, thus allowing it to die quickly rather than slowly and painfully for the mere amusement and sport of a cat? No fucking way! I'm not killing any goddamn birds, that's what the fucking cats are for! I don't know what happened to it, I didn't go back out there to find out. I figured there would be some kind of bird tribunal waiting for me, ready to send my murdering soul to eternal damnation where my eyeballs would be pecked at for all of eternity and the sound of chirping would ring constantly in my ears.

Hubs says he would have found a high plant somewhere and put the bird in there, rather than putting it on the ground, practically on a platter for the evil beasts.

At least the lavender was kind of like a garnish.

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