Stop that Pigeon!

We're having fun with the winged critters at the moment.

A knackered racing pigeon took refuge on my neighbour's roof last week. Despite the best advice from the racing websites, Lily is feeding it like some wayward pet. If you just give them enough food and water to recover, they fly home. But Lily has been doting on it, and it is showing no sign of leaving. Lily is 86, never loses an argument, and knows everything in the world ever - if she says it needs a fuss from a complete stranger who knows bugger-all about pigeons, then that is what it will get.

Some poor sod released a racing pigeon - they'll have to bring a big van to collect the racing turkey, at this rate! All attempts at catching the little blighter have failed miserably and I don't really want to send the cats round to sort it. Lily is calling my Mum at some strange times because Rosie is good with critters. Mum gets this hunted look now, when the phone rings.

Where are Dastardly and Muttley when you need them? Mind you, I seem to recall they didn't get their pigeon either. Lily is enjoying all the fuss too. She has 3 fine strapping lads, and grandkids galore - but they're never around to do this sort of thing, or tidy her garden or take her down to the shops. Their speciality is the big showboat gesture. If the owner decided to leave the racing turkey behind with her, the kids would turn up with a gold-plated coop (or something equally daft) but would never dream of mucking it out.

Ron (next door) has christened it Walter, I've nicknamed it Mr Duckworth, and the cats are calling it next week's lunch...