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J- and S- love birds. They’ve bedecked the trees on their south facing garden with bird-feeders. Seeds, fatballs, an all-you-can eat buffet.

Birds are messy eaters and seeds fall to the ground.

Birds land on the ground to eat them.

Boss pounces on those birds and tears them to shreds.

Blackbird, Blue Tits, Wrens, a Goldfinch.

He likes to bring corpses into our bedroom window and defenestrate them under the bed. If they’re alive he’ll bring them chirp-shrieking into my office so I can administer last rights.

But the main problem is he does it in front of the neighbours. They like to breakfast outside and watch the birds twitter about in their front yard. So does Boss. So poor J- and S- sit at their outdoor table with their coffee and toast and witness the ornothocide.

They’ve tried squirting him with a water pistol. But they don’t have the heart. I’ve offered to give him a good soaking to try and discourage him. We’ve put a bell on his collar and I speak to him most discouragingly

“Birds don’t want to be caught, Boss”

My little wee man thinks we should take him to pet school.

But Boss will not be taught.

He will simply, and effectively cat. 🐈

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Then the waitress inexplicably delivers us a bag of nuts.

Was she saying sorry for making me fetch my own garlic chilli sauce from inside over by the toilets?

Or did she just give it to us by accident when the nice dutch man on the next table had ordered it and had to watch us eat every last nut?

Spoiler from Steve (after I ran for the bus)