Guest Blog
My fifteen-year-old cockatiel, Sydney, begged for a guest post. Here it is:
Bright lights. Someone comes. It is early. Darkness outside. On my purse, gawd, l love my soft purse, I stretch. Food. Now. Can't they hear me? I've bee yelling politely for ten seconds. Ah, Cheerios. Ah, a cashew. Is it my birthday? Oh, I'm dying of joy. Millet seed. Crunch, snap, pop, snarf. Wait a minute. Every time they give me millet. Wait. Ah, good bowel movement. Where was I? Millet. Delicious, wondrous. Wait a minute. Every time they give me. Ooh. A finger. Oh, I love being on shoulders. Ear lobe. Hey! If I want to nibble, I'll nibble. Damn hand, but the purse is soft. Ooh. Millet. Snarf, gobble, chew. Wait a minute. Every time they. Fresh water. I drink the sweet nectar and shout it's goodness. Ooh. Millet. Ooh. A finger. I can't chose! Up and away on the shoulder again. Yes. To the office. Yes. Ah, that was a good poop. Tissue paper. Get away. Back down on office purse. Bare toes. Attack. Attack. Up and away. No not the kitchen. No I want the office. Not the kitchen purse. Ooh. Millet. Crack, fresh, 2007 is a good year. What's a year? I'm tired. My cardboard box. Darkness. Chewed cardboard is soft underneath. It was a hard morning. I yawn. Yawn. Yawn. Eyes heavy. Sneeze. Sneeze. Ah. Sleep, perhaps to dream. Yawn. I have to remember. Yawn. Remember sleep. Eyes close.
Posts
6 comments:
Wonderful.
I'm sending it to friends who live with three cockatiels.
Thanks. He's on my shoulder as he reads this. Sneezes and goes back to grooming. You'd think he has flees for all the grooming he does. He did a good job. Pasta for dinner tonight. He'll be in Heaven around six p.m.
-rick
Yup, that about sounds like a cockatiel. ADD all the way. But they're smart little boogers… we had one that would (subtly) let me know when we was about to poop, and I'd hold him over a piece of paper to do his thing.
Way too much fun, Sydney!
I'll let Sydney type his own response:
g rtvvv
I guess he's not much for vowels.
Sydney baby, perhaps you'd like a dialogue with my aged cat, Becky? She is prone to standing firmly on one key before she is pushed off the leyboard, but it is often a vowel.
eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeerg tt oooooooooo
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