Who ever heard of a cat that didn't eat birds?
The house people had picked me out of my litter to be a mouser. Callie
was getting too old for the job. So it was mine. But I didn't plan on
getting dive-bombed by a mockingbird building her nest...or adopting the
baby who fell out. No joke! I'm a cat, but I do not eat birds. Mice,
yes. Birds, no. Flea -- that's what I named her -- couldn't even fly.
She was so scared when she toppled onto my head that she said, "Eat
me...it's quicker than starving to death."
She was pathetic. I had to help her. The first step was protecting Flea
-- and me -- from the monster rats in the barn (that's saying a
mouthful!) and Bullsnake under the woodpile. Next, Callie and I had to
teach Flea to fly. After all, how could she stay up North with us when
her bird family was flying to Florida. I'm not a Florida kind of cat.
It's just too hot for us furry types. I know I'll miss my Flea. But
she'll come back -- after she's seen the world!