The Circle of Life

On Monday, I worked from home (well, from home and from the waiting room at the Jeep dealership - the beauty of laptops and wireless cards).

When the weather is pleasant, I like to leave the door to my deck open so Rosie can wander in and out as she pleases. We're fortunate not to have many flying pests here in my part of Southie. Large house flies seem to be more common than mosquitoes.

With my door open and me seated at the kitchen table, I began to hear some loud, consistent squalking - a volume and cadence much different from birds happily chirping.

I walked over the the railing in time to see these birds, along with about eight others, flapping around nervously. What could be causing the ruckus, I thought?

I looked down onto the sidewalk, and up the same path that the Southie turkey trotted last week was a midnight black cat with an unlucky still-alive bird flapping around in its mouth. A perilous position, indeed.

The captured bird was letting out a high-pitched cry for help, and its buddies up above were screaming back at it. Poor guy. I wonder what he was saying.

I asked a friend if it was bad luck for a black cat with a still-alive bird in its mouth to have crossed my path.

His response? "Yes, for the bird."

Brilliant.