You a bad puddy tat!

Twit has been "playing" with a bird all day. I finally rescued the poor thing from her because she wouldn't just kill it already.

It escaped into the house and I had a difficult 45 minutes chasing it back out. The last thing I wanted was for it to die behind the computer desk (where, incidentally, there is a heating vent). Eventually I got it out and it sat on the porch.

It still hasn't moved, except to twitch and peep piteously. I locked Twit inside to give it time to recuperate - unless it's fatally injured, in which case it really needs to die outside for sanitary reasons.

Tweenie came home shortly after that. She defended Twit vehemently, no surprise. When the topic turned to the fate of the poor birdie, she naturally wanted to adopt it too.

It's not that I hate animals; quite the opposite in fact. I just don't like being the one left holding the bag (of poop, all too often as it happens). We talked at length about why bringing the bird inside would not necessarily be a good idea. I was just getting to the part about the great circle of life when she cut me off.

"Sorry, ma, my show's on."

I suppose I should simply be grateful that I got my way...