See disclaimers.
"Birds Anonymous?"
"Yep."
"He's really gonna give up eating birds?"
"He just said so," Reid pointed out.
"Impossible."
"Why?"
"Reid, you have noticed that Sylvester is a cat?" Rossi pointed out. Emily was just too stunned for words to continue.
"Yeah, so?"
"You do know that it's in a cat's nature to eat birds, right?"
"Hey, my cat doesn't eat birds." JJ's face grew a little flush.
"No, honey—I don't think that cat eats," Garcia chortled, looking at JJ's reddening face. "I'm sorry. It's just…I've tried feeding that cat, and…"
"He's just lonely. Misses me."
"It's actually true—a pet can get heartsick and actually die of a broken heart if its owner is gone for too long or dies." All eyes were focused on Rossi as he shared this tidbit of information.
"Really?"
"Had a dog that did just that. Was attached to an uncle of mine that passed away—few months later, it did too."
"Whoa," Garcia said, her eyes wide.
"Yeah. Molly was a good dog, too."
The cartoon continued, and the team watched as Sylvester tried several methods to overcome the temptation to eat 'poor' Tweety.
"Chaining yourself to a radiator—now, that's a little extreme," JJ said.
"Not really, cher," Will pointed out. "You'd be surprised what drunks will do sometimes to kick the habit."
"Really."
"Had one man, on Ponchartrain, that deliberately broke every liquor bottle in his house," the Southerner recalled. "Broke the necks of the bottles so he couldn't drink out of them."
"How long did it take for him to figure out that a broken bottle still pours?" Hotch asked.
"Oh, not long. Broke all the glasses too."
"Did it work?" Reid asked softly.
"No, no it did not," Will chuckled. "Found the poor bastard actually trying to lick the booze off the floor, his tongue all cut to shreds. He'd poured the liquor on the linoleum and tried to take it in that way. Neighbors called us up because he screamed like hell every time the alcohol hit his tongue."
"Jesus," Emily said.
Hotch looked over at Reid, who was sitting on the couch next to Emily and Garcia. He could see that the younger man's face was a little fallen, and he'd grown more quiet than usual.
"You okay, Reid?"
"Hmm? Oh, I'm fine."
The look Hotch gave him said plainly otherwise.
"Really, I'm fine. These have helped," he said, indicating the cartoons. The lead agent saw his colleague playing with something in his left pocket, and from the impression on the cloth, Hotch knew what it was.
"Well, I can tell you that it's hard to quit anything," Hotch said. "My dad didn't quit smoking until the cancer took him. Drinking either."
"Cross instincts with that, and you've got problems," Rossi pointed out. "I mean, look at this cat!"
The team watched as another cat now was trying to eat the bird, the instinct and temptation too powerful to ignore any longer.
"This won an award, did you know that?" Reid said.
"Really?" Will asked.
"Yep. Academy Award. Best short subject."
"I'll be damned."
"Quite a few of these cartoons won Oscars. These guys won three that I know of, and Bugs won one. Speedy did too."
"Speedy? Really?" Garcia said, nearly squealing.
"I think so. I could be wrong on that one. But these aren't even the best ones."
"Oh?" Rossi asked. "Holding out on us, are we?" The smile he flashed was enough to bring the levity back into the room.
"Yeah. Here, I'll start with an all-time classic," the younger agent said. "I guarantee even Hotch will be laughing when it's finished."
The short this time is "Birds Anonymous," which really did win an Academy Award.