Angry Baby

No, not KidZilla. The Kid seems pretty content, actually, if not cramped. Not a whole lot of space to be had in my body these days.

I'm talking about the baby mockingbird living in our yard. Last week he was cute. This week, he is psychotic.

Have you ever seen the movie "Failure to Launch"? You know, where Sarah Jessica Parker plays this woman waaaaay younger than she really is and she has this nutso roommate who is tormented by a bird? It's the one with McConaughey and Kathy Bates and Terry Bradshaw (the naked room) where the parents hire her to get their freeloading son to move out of the house.

The nutso roommate is me. This baby bird is absolutely crazy. It does. not. stop. squawking. And it follows me around the house, I swear. If I'm reading the paper in the breakfast nook, it's camped outside the window on the crepe myrtles. If I'm in the study blogging or mindlessly surfing, it's in the fotinia bushes.

I promise I am not going to pop this cutie with a bb gun like nutso roommate does in the movie. Mostly, because that would involve going outside and it's just too damn hot for that. And I think that since the mockingbird is the Texas state bird, that killing one is a felony or something.

So I'm blogging about it.

Now that I think about it, the bird that Blanco and Tex maimed/killed last month was a mockingbird baby, I think. Perhaps this is karma coming full circle. Funny, neither dog seems to be bothered at all by the bird.

Well, that's the most exciting thing I have to report. The bird is starting a new cycle of loud squawking--where are its parents?? feed this thing!!! So I'm seeking refuge in another part of the house. . .