There's an enormous pigeon flies across the back garden at the moment. It's almost the size of her. A really substantial pigeonbeast. She's obsessed. The smaller birds get a tiny flicker of interest -- just as well as they now include a Blackcap -- please don't bring me anything endangered, little one. The blackbird (now crazed with testosterone and showing off by flying near her) gets a raised head, but show her the pigeon and she boils. She's a particularly bold climber and can get to the top of the trees -- well, fast enough to catch a pigeon's tail.
On Sunday I came downstairs to find pigeon feathers, and a smug cat playing with them. Doing that kitten thing where they run around with a feather in their mouth. But Sunday night marked a small cat discovering that she can't fly, though fortunately her tail is only sprained, not broken.
Many thanks to glittertigger for lift back from the vets so smooth that for a moment Harley forgot to make her cat-in-car-cry and started purring.
Also, big laffs to the fat-arse pigeon I saw flying across the garden this morning. He does, indeed, have half a tail.