Our beloved cat, the little Lord Pumpkin, died last spring of throat cancer. In his last years, he graciously shared his household with a smallish dog (whom he trained exactingly), three guinea pigs (whom he pretty much ignored because they just sat around), and two parakeets. The parakeets were tough.
We believe in letting birds free-fly at least several hours every day. That mostly worked out because by that point in the little Lord's life, he liked to nap for more than several hours every day. But if he wanted to get up and the birds still thought it was flying time, that got, um, awkward.
Pumpkin understood perfectly that he should not grab at those birds. But all those cat instincts were very hard to control. And one of the birds had a suicidal urge to dive bomb the cat at his food dish, just to show him who was boss. (well, who was?) Poor Pumpkin!
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