Waring With Elvis

I tell 'ya, give a bird an inch and he'll take a strawberry.  Elvis, the bird is now stealing from not only me, but Stevie as well.  For those you who don't know, I caught Stevie last strawberry season going out early in the morning and although she was completely blind at the time, she would go to each strawberry plant, sniff until she found the ripe strawberries and then gingerly pluck them off and eat them.  Unfortunately, I discovered this late in the season and even after putting the containers up out of Stevie's reach, I only got to enjoy one of my own strawberries because the season was over.  This year I have been waiting with baited breath, knowing that the strawberries would be all mine.  I was confused because although they started producing early, I have only found one ripe strawberry, with all the others disappearing when they were still white or very light pink.  I am naive and thought that since it's early in the season that they had just shrivelled up and died.  That was until I witnessed with my own two eyes, Elvis ripping me off blind.  Not only was it Elvis but he brought his wife (they're married in the bird world) to steal from me as well.  I have since concluded that any being named Elvis cannot be trusted, even though I named him.  There was only one Elvis and the rest are just sorry impostors.  Clearly it's not enough that not only do I let Elvis come into my house for meals but I leave a plate of food out for him for easier access.  Before I could think things through logically, I made my best crazy person impression and went out with a handful of the dog food he likes and actually yelled, "Elvis, don't eat the strawberries.  Here's your food."  I immediately heard myself and prayed the neighbors didn't hear me because I sounded like a lunatic.  I guess I am now going to have to cover the strawberries, but it might serve me better to conclude that clearly, I am not meant to grow strawberries.  I found myself genuinely irritated at the bird because if I'm not going to get to enjoy the berries, I would far rather them go to Stevie. 

As I write this, Stevie is curled up next to me on the couch and has kicked me at least 10 times, trying to get me to move so she can have more room.  Long ago, I concluded that I get no respect from the dogs but now I realize that even the bird world is thumbing their beaks at me.  Maybe I should get a goldfish.