Presents before breakfast, and not the good kind

Tig and Gracie decided to make my morning about as thoroughly unpleasant as possible. I am habitually weak in the stomach in the morning, as my stomach tends to wake up hours after I do. So I can’t deal with disgusting things in the morning.

This morning, I wondered out loud where Tigger was. On cue, he trots happily up to the back door. With a dead bird in his mouth. Mere moments before I was going to sit and eat my breakfast. And he wants me to let him in.

Not. Gonna. Happen.

So now I have to take dead bird away, and when I do, and put it in about seventeen layers of plastic grocery bag (15 to pick it up, two to make sure it doesn’t break through the bag), Tig starts running around looking for it, so I have to show it to him so he won’t drive me crazy. “See? Dead bird. Good cat. Ugh.”

It was my third clean-up of the morning. I will not go into detail about the others, except to say: Grass. Grazing cats. Plus breakfast.

Sigh.

Tig better watch out. He’s already got an arrest warrant out for him. So far, the score is: Tig 3, birds 1. (I helped one get away.)