Grosser than gross

I reluctantly dragged myself out of bed this morning. I am tired. But, you know, nothing will wake up this squeamish Monkey Moma faster than the sight of a dead bird at the bottom of the stairs. (I am posting the after-cleanup picture, as the "before" one is a bit too morbid to be photographed.) That's a pretty gross way to start the morning.

And nothing will wake up five little monkeys faster than the squealing shrieks and squawking screams of their Moma as she happens upon the bird. And upon that cat proudly presenting the morning catch. (Gypsy obviously needs a few more bird bells on her collar.)

As I come down the stairs and start shooing that nasty cat out the door, I realize that it is soooo much more than just a dead bird. What's grosser than gross?? It is the exposed entrails inside the shell of what used to be a bird. My gag reflex is in fine working order.... I now have confirmation.

I manage to get myself down the stairs. I've locked the cat outside. The kids are sequestered to the upstairs hallway where they observe in somewhat horrified interest.


More squawking from Moma. Bird feathers everywhere. While I fought for a few more minutes of sleep, well we can all imagine what was happening. Ugh. I try to spare the monkeys the details as I discreetly scoop the bulk of the bird remains into a grocery bag (another gag-reflex confirmation), but there wasn't any way to disguise the scattering of feathers or the dismembered wing.

But, hey, the floors got a good cleaning first thing this morning... A good sweeping (with the garage broom!). A good vacuuming. A little Lysol.

And I had myself a blog-worthy story to contribute to Stephanie's grosser-than-gross contest. With all these feathers (and kiddo crumbs and girly-girl hair and a noodley-grassy dog), this Monkey Moma could use a KONE... and maybe a cat bib, too.

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