Kitty Hawk

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I was awoken earlier than normal by Ratty, cramming his body under my left arm and meowing until I pet him. I obliged and hoped he would just fall asleep, which he did not. Instead, he started batting at the nook of my other arm, a game we have not played. Then, much to my horror, I heard a peep come out from that other arm nook. We only have one cat.

“Oh my God, there is something other than the cat alive in this bed!” I screamed as I pushed the quilt off. Albert jumped up, flipped on the lights, and screamed, “hummingbird!” Oh thank god, I was sleeping with a hyper mini-bird and not vermin.  Albert seems to be good with catch and release, because he somehow managed to get the bird out the window, alive and with most of its feathers.

Later that morning, I look out the back window and see a giant cooper’s hawk sitting on our fountain. It’s the second day he’s been here this week, and he’s gorgeous. I think it is so ridiculously dry and hot here (sorry, the rest of freezing America…if it makes you feel better, we’re on fire) that the bird doesn’t have many water options. If I had a normal sized cat I would be seriously worried about it going out in the yard with this gigantic bird around, but I don’t think our twenty-pound Ratty could be taken airborne. And of course I would be devastated if that happened, but it would be perfect karma for all the birds he’s murdered.

I walk to the bathroom to brush my teeth and look at my reflection in the mirror. There are tiny bird feathers stuck to my cheeks. I look like some sort of Wild Kingdom crime scene, which is really not how I wanted to start my day.

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