Three weeks ago today I came home to find this little guy fluttering around my apartment. The scene I saw was of the bird making a racket at the top of some blinds and Abby the cat on the floor trying to behave normally. Two thoughts entered my mind at the same time. Where is the blood, and why is the bird still alive?
It would seem Abby is better at planning attacks on helpless birds than actually executing them. I can only imagine that the bird stayed high enough for Abby's efforts to be simply in vain.
He ... she? He was pretty easy to catch with a kitchen towel and remained still for me to take a picture. Well, still until I tried to take him out on the porch with the cat on it.