Birds are A-Holes

*Warning for absolutely horrible language. The following account is completely true and maybe only slightly embellished due to hysteria. 

Nola, my pain in the ass cat.

Nola, my cat, escaped (again) last night when I forgot to latch the front door after letting Roxy out. It was raining and I didn't hear the door not close. Also, I was on the phone with my friend from Autism Art Project, so I was distracted. I hung up with her and was trying to get Morgan into bed... He kept getting up and wandering around.

That's when shit got real and my actions stopped making sense.

I heard Morgan yell, "CAT! Cat's out!" and he was freaking out, so I ran outside into the mothereffing storm. No jacket, no flashlight, and zero common sense.

Nola viewing her domain.

Ugh. I was yelling for this cat, shaking bushes and trees. She ran out to me and then back into a bush, just to be a jerk, so I followed her, trying to grab her. Did you know cats are really freakin' slick when they're wet? And dark cats are really hard to see in the dark without a flashlight?

I lost sight of her until I just barely heard a peeping sound over the booming thunder and howling wind. I saw the big bush next to my downstairs (directly underneath me) neighbor's patio moving wildly. Nola had climbed up into the damned thing. 

Apparently, she'd seen where the mockingbirds (whatever kind, they're asshole birds) had built a nest and stuck two of their babies. She snagged a baby before I could grab her scruff and ran into the hedges, which are mean ass holly bushes. Also, I'm convinced snakes are in there.

I then made it my goal to chase her away from the baby bird. In the rain. And thunder. And lightning. So, basically, I would chase Nola some and then stop and scream as lightning would streak across the sky, then run. I went across the damned parking lot and toward the "swamp," got soaking wet, busted my ass, and had nasty mud between my toes. I was visualizing snakes, rats, and God only knows what else in the dark.

I came back inside the apartment and Thomas gave me the third degree about our delinquent cat, why I didn't have her, and why I wasn't interested in nabbing her. I mean, the little shit tried to KILL a baby bird! How dare she? I was seriously indignant. He wasn't seeing things my way, so he went to look for her, but no dice. All I could think about was that poor baby bird, which doesn't make sense. I loathe birds. I have a serious phobia of birds. I will panic if a bird comes near me. And, hell, I could have been hit by lightning! Or bitten by a snake!

The storm eventually got worse and Nola came inside because I'm a tenderhearted asshole and stood outside getting wet while calling her.

This morning, I could hear the momma bird squawking her terrifying ass off, looking for her baby. Really, she was negligent for not watching her kids, right? Who leaves their children overnight? I came outside and looked over the balcony. It was a miracle! I saw the baby bird, still breathing, on the ground! It was in the mean ass holly bushes!

So, I faced my phobia, because I'm a good person, dammit, grabbed a clean washcloth, and went downstairs. Immediately,that momma bird started on the attack, trying to peck my eyes out. "Just effing stop!" I yelled. But she didn't. I was terrified.

I picked up that baby bird ever so gently and that's when the momma bird went ten shades of psycho. She was swooping and screaming, cawing like nothing I've ever heard in my entire life right next to my ear. I had to persist in my task of picking up her baby, though. It was like I was on a mission from God. Or something.

I had to drop the baby in the nest like it was a lump of hot coal because, dammit, my life was at stake. I could have died. That damn bird wasn't grateful to have her kid back! She was still dive bombing me and trying to peck my very brains out!

Unfit mother bird. 

She's been yelling at my door all damned day and tried to take my head off when I took Morgan to school. I mean, she got her kid back! I wasn't even the nest wrecker! She ought to be glad I don't call Avian CPS on her!

What a bitch of a bird. Gah. No wonder I have phobias.

Unless it's a box turtle, I'm never rescuing another animal ever again. Ever.

*My friend tried to convince me that the bird is my spirit animal and this fight with the momma bird is symbolic of me protecting my kids or some such crap. You know what? My spirit animal is a cheetah. Cheetahs eat birds and wake in the morning to piss excellence. 

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