My Deck, or How I Start With a Lovely Story and Then Let it Progress Into a Story of VENGEANCE

When I first moved into my current apartment, I knew that I had a pretty sweet deck, but it was covered in snow and ice and didn't really consider its potential.

Then it got warmer. And warmer. And I started to go out there more, wearing fewer sweaters and more tank tops. All of a sudden, it was summer. I was laying out in the sun, or reading, or... that's about it. Those are the two main things.

And then, autumn. Ahhhhhhh. My favorite, my precious. Autumn is the best season in Michigan, if for nothing else than the scents. It smells like leaves and apples and fireplaces and leaves. And leaves. Leaves! Pretty leaves of all colors that don't go from green to brown to the ground in a matter of a week. Then, the crispness creeps in. Slowly at first, only in the mornings. When you head out the door in the morning and there's a slight nip in the air? Amazing. And then there are all of the other things: the football, the apple orchards, the SWEATERS. Oh man, did I forget how much I missed this.

So this is the northern view from my deck on a happy, good, color-changing, autumnal kind of day:

Look at the pretty treeeeeeee!

Months ago, the Lady bought me a bird feeder. The finches, they did not come. Then, one awesome day, they were just... there. And they have been arriving ever since, gobbling down thistle and eating me out of house and home. Seriously, those little bastards are getting chubby. I mean, I know that winter is coming, but there are a few little finches that just chill there all day. Then I walk by the window a little too quickly for their comfort levels and they take off like bats out of hell. And then they return 45 seconds later.

So I've become accustomed to my sweet little birdies. But for a few days in a row, I came home and the feeder was no longer hanging outside my window. I went outside to investigate, and there is was. It had fallen? I don't know. So I replaced it each time only to come home and find it fallen.

And this is what I saw on my deck when I got home from ballet the other night. The same exact sight as the previous days.

It was a crime scene. Thistle? EVERYWHERE. Feathers? EVERYWHERE. And then, out from under the small table, a grey menace darted out into view.

The evil bastard cat of the apocalypse! Look at his eyes! Look at them BURN with intensity and pure, unadulterated EVIL. I chased him away and went inside. "To hell with you, CAT," I thought. "TO HELL."

And I thought, "Well, that's over."

HA!

Since that fateful night, that fucking cat has been my nemesis. When I get out of the shower in the morning, and the sun starts to peek out from behind the trees, the birdies start arriving to begin their gorgefests. I check on them and say "hello birdies!," because that's what you do in the morning. Then I yank the door open to the deck and more often than not? That bastard cat takes off like lightning. But he always stops at the end of the yard to glance back. Has she gone inside yet? Can I come back for some additional gourmet dinners?

So now, I am upset. I am sure that the birdies think I'm a horrible person. That I'm basically luring them to their potential DEATHS, and yet? They return. "Oh yay, there's that little person who fills this cylinder thingie with thistle!" The cat? Not scared of me. He probably loves me! "Oh yay, there's that little person who brings me such joy in the form of little yellowish birds!"

Well, I am here to tell you something, devil cat. I will never bend! I will never break! I will thwart your every move! Unless I'm at work, or at Mike's, or napping or something. Erm... Otherwise, watch out!