Islay and the revenge of the birds

On the morning of Christmas Eve, Islay was out on her morning walk when she caught a collared dove. She killed it instantly, and was so quick about it that it was dead by the time I turned round to see what the scuffling was.
I had two choices: I could sneak home and let her eat the body in the garden, or I could carry on to Spar and do my bits of shopping as I originally planned.
So I went to Spar. While I was in there, Jean Mar came in to find me. "Did you know your dog's got a dead pigeon?" she asked. "You'll have to get her wormed now, you know."
An old chap was at the till before me; not a local - he had a London accent. He went out and came in again as I was being served. "Did you know your dog's eating a pile of feathers?"
He was quite right. By the time I got outside, there was nothing left but a few feathers - and a very smug looking dog.

In the evening, I happened to be passing Marina's when she was seeing off her eldest daughter and the baby. They were spending Christmas Day elsewhere. She invited me in. Brock had been confined to barracks for a few days, with bad arthritis, so he was very pleased to see his girlfriend Islay.
So was the parrot.
I grabbed Islay's collar as the parrot climbed down from her cage and walked across the kitchen floor to inspect Islay. After the incident that morning, neither of us trusted her an inch with anything feathered. Islay didn't know what to make of the parrot's interest in her, and she started backing away. The parrot followed her, and kept following her all the time we were there. Marina said that she used to live in a house with dogs, and had been very friendly with a black and white dog. Islay obviously reminded her of her old friend, apart from the fact that she was making Islay very nervous indeed. Birds weren't supposed to come looking for her; she was supposed to chase them.
Parrot 1, Islay nil.