A Tall Tail

The Milligan's

Yesterday I got in trouble with the neighbour Mrs. Milligan and reprimanded by Suitcase, so today I am lying low. In fairness to me, how was I supposed to know that the pretty green birdy in the cage was not breakfast? As a rule, I try not to eat other pets in the house, with the exception of Sleepy's hamster, Auggie. If ever I get my paws on that rotating weasel, it will be game over. He is equivalent to a bad roommate who plays loud music all night and in the morning asks you if you slept well? Every night when I am just about to fall asleep, Auggie hops on his wheel, taunting me. He jogs for hours, his face stuffed with seeds. Sometimes he poops and jogs at the same time. Seriously, who exercises like that?

I have digressed. I am lying low because yesterday I was walking in Milligan's yard, as I have done countless times before, when I came across a green bird in a cage. Being caged, I could only assume someone had done the work of capturing it for me and that it was fair game in every sense of the word.. Of course, I looked around for Milligan, because he was the sort of neighbor who'd pat your head and say “nice kitty” when your people were looking, but pull your tail if he caught you alone. Insuring that Milligan was nowhere to be seen, I edged closer to the bird. The bird saw me coming and began to squawk louder. At first, I was just curious about my new flapping feathered friend. I climbed up the stand he was set out on to size him up and see if he was worth the trouble. I put one paw on the cage and then the other. I shook the cage and nothing happened. The bird kept up the racket he was making, but by that time I had already made up my mind, "I do like green birds with ham. I do like them Sam I am". Besides, I had reasoned, stopping all his noise would be a service to the community.

Getting the cage open was going to prove to be more of a challenge than I anticipated. Having gone to all the effort to cimb up here, I stuck my paws in and swatted at him a few times. The cage was too big, he could easily move to the other side each time I advanced on him. Climbing back down, I did a few laps around the cage while I thought. I rubbed myself on the stand like a tire rubs the road., I determined that the base of the stand was some sort of heavy, unbudging metal. Clever! The cage hung on a hook from the stand making my chances of rocking it over very low. Climbing up the stand again, I determined that there were two doors; one on the bottom that came completely off but seemed firmly latched and one towards the top which opened inward. Looking farther at my surroundings I noticed that the branches above the cage hung within pouncing range. An air strike might be the best method of opening the weaker door.

“Hiya Birdy” I said, as I went about my business, climbing the nearby tree. The limbs of the old tree sagged down at a 60 degree angle like someone heavy sat had on them while they were growing. I was complimenting myself on my immaculate climbing skills when I noticed dinner was chirping less. I looked down at him. The distance that he thought I was putting between us seemed to be having a calming effect on him. So focused on complimenting myself and my climb that I did not notice Mrs. Milligan approaching. Mrs. Milligan was a round lady. More harmless than her husband, but crazy as the birds. In fact, reflecting on the situation,, I should have put two and two together and realized that one bird had befriended the other. Milligan was tweeting her own song, which I had confused for a calming version of Green-Eggs-and-Ham’s. Finally in position, I looked down to see Green-Egg’s-and-Ham looking up at me. Was he smiling? About this time, Mrs. Milligan must have spotted me, but it was too late. In what can only be described as a heroic leap, I threw myself from the tree limb. I opened my arms and legs in full spread, doing my best impression of one of those flying squirrel’s that Sleepy had made me watch on the nature channel, to slow my descent. What happened next is a bit of a blur. I braced for impact on the metal bars, but instead found my claws sinking into a much softer surface. There was screaming as Mrs. Milligan discovered that I was on her back. There was a merry-go-round effect as she spun uncontrollably. There were baked goods raining from the sky as the tray of cookies she had been carrying into the forest to eat with her prize bird (I told you she was coo-coo) sprayed everywhere. I imagine the tray somehow hit the cage at just the right angle because suddenly Breakfast was doing the dance of joy on top of the cage. His wings were flapping and he was well on his way to freedom. Mrs. Milligan stopped in her tracks when she realized that Breakfast was up and away. I took the opportunity to excuse myself and head for the hills.

By the time I got home that night, Suitcase and Betty were in the kitchen fighting.

“Betty that cat has to go! He is always causing trouble.”

“Never!” Betty put her foot down. Betty never put her foot down or spoke out of turn to Suitcase unless it was about me.

Suitcase crossed his arms. Betty crossed hers.

“Mrs. Milligan is crazy as the birds. Do you really think Wallie paratroopered from the sky and attacked her with cookies. How could Wallie open her bird’s iron cage?”

Clearly Mrs. Mulligan had embellished the story, but I appreciated the creative liberty she took as it made me sound like a ninja. I secretly hoped all the other animals heard about my new found skills.

Betty continued, “it is more likely that lightning struck her tinfoil hat and she tripped and freed the bird herself”.

Betty was always in my corner. Suitcase couldn’t argue and the thought of Mrs. Milligan in a tinsel hat made the corners of his mouth turn up and almost smile. Milligan’s version of the story was so obscure that she had helped me out a great deal. I would remember to reward her later.

“Okay, dear. I’ll smooth it over with the Milligan’s, but keep Wallie out of their yard for a few days.”