When I came downstairs this morning I paused at the foot of the stairs to look at THIS!! shoves a picture into your face I thought Cujo had mangled one her toys. But into the shape of a large dead bird? noooo. All my shrieking had to be done on the inside so as not to alarm The Kid. I was externally calm and in charge. Internally I was clawing at the walls in a mad panic. The carcass of the winged beast ( may he rest in peace) is in a receptacle in the garage. Cujo and the floors have been rubbed down with Clorox. I await Kitty’s return so I can do the same to her. And now I’ll return to a cup of coffee while I ponder the meaning of a dead bird at one’s bottom stair.