The Man saw the feathers too, and he declared that the cats must have devoured Yardbird (the only bird I've ever liked, Yardbird kept us company while we gardened and scavenged for grubs). Neither of us has seen Yardbird since, though I plan to do some weeding tomorrow morning, as I'm taking the day off and I want to put this "Yardbird: Dead or No?" question to bed.
Here, though, is a dramatization of what I think may have happened:
Yardbird: Hey, cats! Hey you guys! I think Leslie and the Man would want us to be friends! Do you want to hang out?
Conan: No! I don't want to hang out with a stupid fu... UM WAIT YES. Yes. Let us hang out.
Kail: Riiiiiight. Only we can't fly, so you'll have to come down here.
YB: Oh, um.... Well...
C: I think I see a grub over here. It looks wretch DELICIOUS wretch.
YB: A grub? Yeah! I'd love a grub. I guess I could come down there.
C: We want to play! With your blood.
K: Oh, look. Conan has put the grub in his mouth so he can feed you like your Mom did when you were a little yardbird. Just go closer to his mouth.
YB: Yeah, ok. Sure. That's totally reasonable.
And that could have been the sad end to a tasty bird.
But. We'll see...
TRUE THINGS THAT ARE NOT RELATED TO EACH OTHER OR BIRDS:
- It is super sad when you're cold and you have to either use the bathroom or take a shower and that bathroom is freezing. Exposing extra flesh to the freezing cold is awful.
- When I walk under or behind something that is large and/or heavy and could potentially become dislodged and fall on me I always ALWAYS picture it happening in my head. The result is that I frequently play Leslie-gets-crushed scenarios in my head. I wish I had a greatest hits of that - I would put it to the Benny Hill chase-scene soundtrack and we could all watch it and laugh.
- Thursday is not quite Friday. EDITED TO ADD: Except when you have Friday off. Then Thursday is just like Friday...