It's always fun in a disconcerting way to watch as your rascally, cuddly, lovable furball pet instantaneously transmogrifies into a fuckin' terminator.
Sarah was holding Moe as we talked in the office yesterday afternoon while it rained steadily. Sarah noticed a flutter of motion by the window and spied a pigeon who had just landed on the sill to escape the miserable conditions. She mentioned it to me and then asked Moe if he could see it, lowering him slightly so that it was in his sightline.
At first, he didn't seem to process it, but once he did, it was like this electric current just shot right through him. He immediately did that "turn to jellyfish" trick of his and squirmed out of Sarah's grasp and, in one motion, fell to the floor and then sprang straight for the window (which is about chest-high to me).
BWAP! The window was, of course, closed, and Moe flew face-first right into it. The surprise of this impact knocked him back down to the floor into a tangle of wires, but he barely noticed. In another spring-like motion, he threw himself back at the window. BWAP! Same result. Down to the floor he went again. Duh.
By this time, Sarah and I were pretty much incapacitated with laughter, while the pigeon, who probably watched its life flash before its eyes, took off in a hurry once it realized it was not going to be Moe's dinner.
One can almost imagine the thought processes involved in these few seconds of action:
*BWAP!*
*BWAP!*
Pigeon: oh. heh. lol. *flies away*
Moe, of course, spent the rest of the afternoon keeping a very watchful eye on the windowsill. I tried to impress upon the boy that even if the window had been opened, and there had been no screen in it, he would have possibly nabbed the Mr. Pigeon in a flying tackle, yes, but then it would have been a 20 foot drop to the sidewalk afterward.
I don't think he cared.
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