I got home from taking Scout home, last night, and when I pulled the car in front of the abode,the front door was wide open. This scared me. At first, I thought that maybe there had been a burglary, then I got scared that there was a fire going on inside and where was my young 17 year old son, Graem?

I went inside; Graem was standing there with a very frustrated look on his face, holding a red bandana.

"What's wrong?" I asked him.

"Cobain brought home a bird and the darn thing has been flying about the place and now he has hidden himself behind the shelves in the kitchen and I can't get him out," said my son indicated not just a bit of anger at Mr. Cobain, our cat.

I was greatly relieved. Mr. Cobain had once brought me home a huge rat and deposited it at my feet while I was writing, so I wasn't surprised by this developemnet.

"Just let the bird alone and we'll see what happens," I said, but my son was undaunted. He wanted that bird out of his living space.

I went in the kitchen and pulled the shelf out. The bird flew into the living room, where my son was able to wrap the red bandana around it, carry it to the still wide open front door and let it go free.

Cobain watched all this with a bemused look on his face and then headed to his little in and out window that is afixed within a window in the back of the living room and climbed out, surely heading to find more rats and more birds to bring home to his loved ones.