One week later, I have just been presented with yet another dead bird. In the house.
Now it's Rainbow Tom, not Mrs. D-G, who is proudly standing over the carcass, but we are not fooled. Thomas is rather large and prone to producing other cat's kills as his own.
And I had just left the room for about 60 seconds in order to ask E NOT to eat and drink in my bed while watching tv.
Feathers, lots of small feathers. And a carcass. And it took a couple of minutes for it to sink in that this was a catbird.
Truly, the Queen of Destruction.
Frankly, I hope the birds rethink their policy of following her about and making loud and obnoxious noises. Eventually, her majesty is no longer amused.