Warning, Mama: this post is about a b-i-r-d.
I was mowing this morning, and had finished the front yard and moved the mower around to the back. It's pretty warm today, so I was already sweaty and tired. I picked up the cord (my mower is electric) and was taking it into the house to plug it in, when here comes Minnie galloping toward the house. I smiled, slid the screen door open just as she hit the back step, and she zoomed through into the house without a pause, screeching "TWEET TWEET TWEET!"
Sure enough, Minnie (aka "DammitCat!") had slipped in with a bird gripped in her teeth. I shut the door quick and went to grab Minnie before she could let go of the bird, but she easily eluded me and zipped into the bathroom, where she dropped the bird and it proceeded to flap and shriek and hide behind anything and everything. Little bird feathers littered the floor, and Minnie spit out a couple more for good measure. I got a tissue and tried to grab the bird; no dice. I tried to encourage Minnie to pick up the bird again and take it outside, but since when do cats listen? Anyway, she was in stalker mode--she didn't want to kill it, so much as poke at it and bat it around if possible. *shudder*
I picked up all the stuff the bird was hiding behind. Minnie moved toward her now-exposed target, and the bird flapped toward ME. Big Tough Mom squealed like a six-year-old girl and darted out of the little bird's path.
The bird flapped into the hall and toward the bedroom, where there are plenty of things to hide behind, which it proceeded to do--I couldn't even spot the thing by the time I got in there. I ran to fetch a flashlight and looked in every nook big enough to hide a wee bird (which adds up to a lot of nooks), but couldn't track it down...until I noticed that Minnie seemed unusually interested in the area under the nightstand. I pulled the nightstand away from the wall, shone a flashlight under it, and sure enough, there it was, blinking its beady little black eyes. I pulled the nightstand off the bird completely and tried to grab it again...and squealed like a little girl again when it shot toward me.
Under the furnace it went, straight into Minnie's favorite hiding place, and Minnie skittered under there right on the bird's tail. I moved around to the other side of the furnace "hidey hole" and shone the flashlight all around the space, trying to find the bird. It obliged me by flying straight into my face.
Needless to say, the bird got away again, this time streaking off toward the even-more-plentiful hiding places afforded by my office/guestroom, and straight into a nice, cluttered closet. By now I was pissed, and after trying to poke it out with a flyswatter (no, I did not swat it), I smacked a chair with the flyswatter and blued the air with curses. Minnie doesn't see Mom angry that often, but when she does, she very wisely skedaddles. I dove into the closet and started flinging crap out of it left and right--boxes, bubble wrap, a roll of brown paper, an exercise mat, stray chunks of cardboard, etc. Finally, I got all the junk out, spied the bird trying to burrow into a corner, and found a small box to drop over it. I slid the business end of the flyswatter under the box to trap the bird in there, and speed-walked to the back door to set it free. It flew away from me quick enough, so its wings weren't injured by the ordeal--but the stupid thing landed in the yard, which is probably where Minnie grabbed it in the first place! Whatever--Minnie was inside, her erstwhile prey was safe, and my house was once again bird-free.
I'm not sure what my furry little twit did for the next several minutes because I was busy getting my breath back. Half an hour I chased Minnie and the bird. And I still had to finish mowing. Good grief....
Must remember to always, ALWAYS check Minnie's mouth before letting her into the house!