Awwwww
My pet cat must be the sweetest, cutest, kindest creature in all of Scotland.
As soon as I heard that familiar "Thunk" of another birdie flying into the window the cat was at the back door wanting to go out and help it. I went out with it into the snow and lifted the little bluetit up out of the snow, my cat trying to help me but unable to do so as it's claws kept digging into my wrists and hands (poor thing is like edward scissorhands). The poor little bluetit had knocked the sense out of itself, blinking wildly, sharp little feet grasping at whatever it could reach, poor little soul. I carried it over to a small table at the bottom of the garden, swept the snow off it, placed down a few pieces of wood so that it would have something to sit on that wouldn't be too cold and would at least survive for a few hours and have time to recover. The cat was looking so worried about the little blue tit, tail flicking from side to side, eyes wide as if worried about the poor little thing's condition. I left it out there, the cat keeping guard, trying to climb up onto the table, perhaps to provide comfort and bodyheat to the stunned bluetit. I went out again to check on it, it looked at me in the way that a concussed bird that can't work out how it got from flying to sitting position on a piece of wood on a glass topped table would normally look at a human walking up to it and stroking it's head and checking it's legs to see if it still has feeling and movement on both sides of its body would. The cat had decided to go inside to sleep on a sheepskin rug it likes. I brought a bowlfull of peanuts over to the birdie and then left it to recover more. Soon after it took off, flying up into the trees and then off to wherever it calls home.
Ahh, somethings about Scotland are nice
As soon as I heard that familiar "Thunk" of another birdie flying into the window the cat was at the back door wanting to go out and help it. I went out with it into the snow and lifted the little bluetit up out of the snow, my cat trying to help me but unable to do so as it's claws kept digging into my wrists and hands (poor thing is like edward scissorhands). The poor little bluetit had knocked the sense out of itself, blinking wildly, sharp little feet grasping at whatever it could reach, poor little soul. I carried it over to a small table at the bottom of the garden, swept the snow off it, placed down a few pieces of wood so that it would have something to sit on that wouldn't be too cold and would at least survive for a few hours and have time to recover. The cat was looking so worried about the little blue tit, tail flicking from side to side, eyes wide as if worried about the poor little thing's condition. I left it out there, the cat keeping guard, trying to climb up onto the table, perhaps to provide comfort and bodyheat to the stunned bluetit. I went out again to check on it, it looked at me in the way that a concussed bird that can't work out how it got from flying to sitting position on a piece of wood on a glass topped table would normally look at a human walking up to it and stroking it's head and checking it's legs to see if it still has feeling and movement on both sides of its body would. The cat had decided to go inside to sleep on a sheepskin rug it likes. I brought a bowlfull of peanuts over to the birdie and then left it to recover more. Soon after it took off, flying up into the trees and then off to wherever it calls home.
Ahh, somethings about Scotland are nice