Yay! The birds are finally gone. Those bloody budgies were the biggest mistake I've made since I brought home the giant greyhound. I guess I'm just a cat person, which makes sense, as I have four.
Speaking of cats, my second oldest, Brock, had a bit of an adventure this weekend. This morning I woke up, and only saw 3 cats, which isn't that odd, Brock tends to sleep downstairs. What was odd was that he never turned up when I filled up the food dish. I asked Ian if he had seen the cat, and Ian swore up and down that he had earlier in the morning, so I wandered around the house for about 45 minutes, calling Brock. I was terrified that I would find him dead on the furnace, or under the bed or something, and I started to get frantic. I went outside on the off chance that he had escaped, and who was standing at the door with leaves hanging off his whiskers? You guessed it. Brock. He was quite pleased with himself as he marched in to the kitchen to eat his breakfast, and the other cats were all over him, sniffing his butt to see where he had been. As far as we can figure, he escaped last night when I left the house to go to my Angels game (which RAWKED! by the way). So, when the other cats were put out on their harnesses to enjoy the weather this afternoon, I judged that he needed to stay inside.