Thanks cats. Happy Belated Birthday to me!

My darling precious angel cats brought me birthday presents yesterday morning. Two days late, but hey, they're cats! They don't have calendars!
Present No. 1 was a mostly-dead, but still breathing, tiny gray mouse which they deposited just outside the door of my daughter's bedroom and which I walked RIGHT PAST in my blurry morning haze to check on said child and change her diaper.
When I finally DID notice the poor darling on the floor, wheezing his last breaths, my exact reaction was "BAAAAAHB! Bob! EEK!"
My husband, Bob if you didn't catch that, promptly roused himself from a sound slumber (at 7:30 a.m. on a Saturday no less) probably thinking that I had found the child attempting to self-immolate or completely absent from the homestead or worse. He ran into the hallway to find me peeking out from Elizabeth's room, jabbing my finger toward the now-critical mouse and saying "Get it! Get it!"
He obliged. Finding a paper towel and ziploc bag with which to dispose of the potential biohazard (Valley fever, fleas, ticks, rabies, chlamydia? I don't know what mice transmit, not good things!)
I mean, I'm not Cinderella, he wasn't here to help me clean the house or sew a dress.
That situation behind me, I confidently left my daughter's room, scanning the floor for any additional post-birthday surprises, when I spied on the toddler table a snatch of black and white bird feathers.
No bird.
Just feathers.
Screams again emanated from my person.
These gifts were also gathered into a ziploc bag (the biohazard disposal unit of choice in our home) by the lovely and obliging Bob, and removed from my immediate area.
Heavy doses of Lysol and carpet cleaners were promptly applied to the affected areas of the house and several surrounding feet of air, carpet and wall.
Thanks kitties for a great belated birthday treat!