Crazy Cat Lady

When we moved to our house thirteen years ago, one of the things I loved best was all the song birds that flitted through our yard.    Cardinals, mockingbirds, blue jays, robins.  You name it, we had it.

Our house has a hedge right in front of our living room window.   It has been amazing to watch a cardinal family come back year after year, build their nest, lay their eggs, and create a new generation.   

This year, however, we have cats all over the stinkin' neighborhood.    Bobtails, black cats, tabby cats, calico cats, black and white cats.   Our own tolerated  beloved cat was once one of the fifty frazillion strays running around the neighborhood.

Cats, cats, cats.

Several days ago, I looked out and there was our cardinal couple happily building their nest. Spring is in the air.

My heart smiled.  

Until last night.  

It was the best part of the day.  My bra was off.  My pjs were on.  My hair was pulled up in a ponytail.  Life was good.

And then PsychoticKitty started going nuts.  

He was jumping off the arm of the chair and launching himself at the window.   There would be a little thud of his tiny skull against the window, and he would climb back onto the chair to dig at the mini-blinds    A few seconds later, PsychoticKitty would attack the window with his skull again.   After about three cycles, I pulled up the mini-blinds    There I saw a dusty-colored cat perched in the shrubs waiting to pounce at the poor unsuspecting cardinal family.     

I saw red.   

Not MY cardinals.

My barefoot feet stormed down the steps.  I chased the cat off screeching, "Stay away from my birds!"   He took off like a shot.   

I went back in the house, proud that my cardinals would live another day.   I sat back down on the couch, smiling.    Until I looked out the window.   The cat was back.   

Um. 

I don't think so, Kitty Kitty.

PsychoticKitty is sometimes a little hardheaded, so we have a squirt bottle to remind him that he can't get on cabinets or climb mini-blinds at three in the morning. I've also found it works on the hubby.  Whenever he's in a foul mood, a little squirt to his chest and he jumps just like the cat does. Big Daddy gives me the same blank look as the cat, like all his circuits have been reset, and then all seems to be right in the world.   

I figured if the squirt bottle works on PsychoticKitty AND Big Daddy, surely it would work on a stray.    Right as my feet hit the sidewalk, the stray jumped at the Momma Cardinal.    I started squirting and screaming, "No cat! Not the birds.  Stay away from my birds."    

The cat jumped down and ran under my car.   I followed with the squirt bottle, spraying away.  He ran to the street.  I followed squirting and screaming, "Stay. Away. From. My. Birds. Leave my cardinals alone!"     Each word, punctuated with a squirt.  

The cat turned back toward my house.  I sprayed again.   

He snaked back to the street, and I chased after him running barefoot down the center of the street, in my pyjamas, bra-less boobs flopping, hair wild, squirting, and screaming, "Stay away from my birds! You. Cannot. Eat. Them.  I'm serious!"  

The neighbors in the house beside me came out and stared at the sight before them.  Even the crazy neighbors on the end of the street peeked out to see what the commotion was.    

I chased the cat to the end of the block, and walked back with the dawning realization of what I must look like.   

When I got back in the house I told Big Daddy, "The cat is gone, but if someone called the cops, it wasn't me." 

He looked me up and down and said, "Honey, I think the neighborhood knows you, and there's no way you're getting out of this one."

Well, damn.

Time to move.