I was once compelled to remove a stinky dead bird with the statement:
Would the man Liam remove that bird?, or would he wait until raccoons pecked
at it?
Yes I removed the bird immediately.

Even better than dead bird on the roof...

I was staying with this dominatrix in Las Vegas for a while. Total 'I am queen and more bad-ass than thou' all the time hardcore b!tch. Really not very healthy roomie for a quiet kid like me, but I didn't know that moving in... anyway, she had three big dogs (also not something I knew about going into the deal... actually, I was told a hat full of lies and everything turned out half way decent, so I guess I got pretty lucky and should stop being such a baby) and about eight cats. The cats were great because I had two of my own back then.

The menagerie had a bad habit of bringing the outdoors in. I can't figure how many times I had to explain animal psychology to Lady, but it was an alarmingly habitual conversation by the time I left her house. She always seemed to think it was pretty funny that I am very squeamish about human grossness (sink swamps, piles of dirty laundry, last week's leftovers rotting in the back of the fridge, etc. [the etc. is always important]) but am completely at ease with blood and gore. I must have spent too much time doctoring my own injuries over the years.

I couldn't tell you how many times I've been dragged out of bed to dispose of a dead bird that has magically appeared in the den 'please, before there are feathers everywhere'. Or rescued a bug from someplace it oughtn't been. I remember once a giant grasshopper was dropped down a guest's corset during a play-party... that was an adventure.

The series of incidents I was immediately put in mind of though was once when Lady was ill for a week. Her boss cat Avalanche took it into his furry little brain that she wasn't eating very well. He kept dropping still living insects on her coverlet. Lady was convinced he had it out for her, that he was punishing her for some imagined slight. I kept trying to tell her she was lucky it was just crickets and roaches and not scorpions. Cats seem to think that scorpions are pretty tasty. I don't know if that's just a desert thing or what.

Lots of things are weird here in the desert. I guess I'm one of those though... not that any of the weirdoes out here have any room to talk.