Hitler and the pigeon

Disturbing events at Eerste jan van der Heijdenstraat 41 last evening.

I was sitting on my couch, when I saw a flash of movement in the garden. A pigeon had flown across the yard and was perched against the boards of the fence on the right side, flapping his wings and gripping the wood tightly with his feet. "Not normal behaviour for a pigeon," I thought. It then flapped down to the table and onto the garden chair when, suddenly, there was a burst of white coming from the ground. A cat! The pigeon then flew directly, and loudly, into my glass back door. I got up and ran to the doors to check and see if it was ok, but Hitler the cat was already there. EEEEWWWW!

I ran back to the couch and hid until I saw Hitler carry the pigeon up and over the fence on the left side of the yard. Before I went to investigate the carnage left behind, I called Tom on Skype and carried my laptop with me, talking into the speakers, as I inched toward the door. Gross smudge on window...checking for a head or feathers...checking...checking. Nothing. Not a single drop of blood. Not a single feather. Hitler the cat had killed the bird and carried him away without any sign of struggle. Disturbing.

It's like I live in a nature reserve and saw the harsh side of wildlife last night. I am back to being a vegetarian.