For the Birds

Growing up, until I was about five, my parents were pretty anti-cat or dog as a pet. My dad had fish. So many tanks of fish (honestly, five? Six tanks? One was massive -- 100 gallons? And then others of the more "normal" home aquarium size.)

He took great care of those fish and seemed to enjoy it. But fish ...are not amazing pets.

We also had goldfinches. I'm not sure that's a thing people do anymore - at pet stores you really only see conures and budgies and the occasional parrot. But back in the day, finches were always there and we would occasionally add another to our flock, carrying it home in a cardboard box with holes to add to one of the two bamboo cages full of finches. They laid eggs. Hatched chicks. It was a whole thing.

And yet, still not a dog or a cat.

They finally caved and we got a dog. And then I found a cat in our yard and begged and pleaded and my mom must have been having a bad day, because she finally caved and let me keep her. And then about two weeks later we had six cats! (Mom was displeased. So. Displeased. But we gave away all but two of the kittens and then got Patches fixed, so really no harm no foul, right?)

As an adult, we've always had dogs. Hubs is dreadfully allergic to cats or I would absolutely have cats, too. But I do love dogs.

And even so, when a friend posted on the FacePlant about needing to rehome her daughter's parakeet (aka budgie - don't get me started on why they need two names. I don't know.) I dug out my pleading face and asked hubs if we could do it.

He just laughed and said, "Do what you want." (Good man, my husband.)

And now, we have a lovely green parakeet complete with yellow face and the most delightful chirp and song. She's such a joy.

I honestly hadn't realized I missed having birds -- although they always catch my eye at the pet store, but I always figure it wouldn't be the same as finches. (And I mean, it's not. But it also kind of is.)

Regardless, I'm not one hundred percent sure I needed another thing to take care of (because let's be real, she's mine to take care of. As are the dogs. And that's fine.) But I enjoy her so much, it's hard to mind.

Apparently, they can sometimes be taught to talk. So we're working on lots of repetitions of the word "hello" right now just to see if we can get her to speak. Because that could be very fun as well. But if she doesn't, that's fine, too. Her songs are plenty.

(Last night, she was singing up a storm and chattering in the evening. Eldest looked at me, "She's noisy." I frowned. "She's happy." He grunted. "I hope she's not happy all the time." Turkey.)