I get stuck in a routine with them that I forget how much fun they are when I bring them to new places. Kizzy has a special friend at Woof Meow in Derry. Her name is Gabby and her dad Matt is the one who does my kids' nails. He handles Kizzy like a fearless champ. When Kizzy saw Gabby, his cheeks turned bright red and he bobbed up and down, mesmerized by her beauty. The two birds took turns saying "Hello!" to each other and maintained eye contact. They'd make beautiful babies some day, should we let them. Apparently Gabby is an immoral gal however, and will "go with anyone" as my friend says, so Kizzy's tender heart might be broken by such infidelity. He's too young to think about serious relationships, anyway! Unless I get hit by a bus, he'll need to be a mama's boy. If I do get hit by the bus, and my nephew declines the challenge of this magical bird, he might have a shot at marriage.
All the carriers fit in a shopping cart, with Kizzy sitting on one of them as we wheeled through the shop. Looked like a birdie parade float, and the chatter reflected their excitement and happiness. My God, I love my birds. Take everything away from my life and I can be fine, but please don't take my birdies. They are joy.
Hapi demonstrated his ability to speak appropriately, too, last night. Matt had the four smaller birds with him in the back and when it was his turn, Hapi said "Not right now" twice. He didn't get his wish. His nails were done and unfortunately at least one bled a lot. When I opened the carrier and found all the blood, I said "Oh no, Hapi, what happened?" to which he replied "Toes. Toes. Toes." I do not make this stuff up. I think it is amazing that of the hundreds of words and sounds he knows (if not more) he is able to communicate with the contextually correct ones. He knows what he is saying a good deal of the time, for sure. I am in awe of this bird.
As always when I visit Matt we catch up on birdie stories. We compared scars from bites on our hands and arms, which is a funny thing parrot owners tend to do. Apparently Cairo was very naughty and bit him, And he bears a scar from Kizzy from a previous visit. I recalled a one inch scar on my right wrist that I got when Kizzy was a bout 18 months old. The gash was so bad and unexpected I went up to the parrot store and actually almost gave him back out of frustration. So glad I didn't and the person who sold him to me talked me down from the branch, so to speak.
I restocked the birdie essentials at Woof as they have everything someone might need for a parrot. My cart was full of great things including a daylight bulb for above the Quaker's cage, new calcium blocks, toys, and treats. A new spiral perch for Kizzy. I got to the register only to find my debit card had disappeared. I KNEW I had it with me as I made a special trip into the house to get it before leaving. I ransacked my purse, the car, and retraced my steps through the store. Nada. Infuriating. I double, triple, and quadruple checked everything. Nada. I was in a panic that I'd dropped it and someone snagged it. So, as it was late, I gave up and left everything at the shop to be collected today. Did I leave the card home? But I thought I had it? But did I? I can be a space shot sometimes, which I hate, and toss in brain fog and anything can happen. It was embarrassing but I know we all have done this at some point, so I sheepishly crawled out of the store and left.
When I got home, I found the darn card wedged in the tiniest of cracks between the driver's seat and center console. A one in a hundred shot at falling in such a small place. So, back to Derry I go today, sans parrots, which means I can visit the birdie room at the shop and see all the babies. Give me strength! I can do this because I know they don't have any cockatoos, which is my weakness. I'm bringing Gabby a special chain toy that I make for Kizzy that he adores. A token of love from her admirer.