Tonight, Lou (27 year old CAG that came into Mickaboo care last Spring) found his way to the bookcase. Not so easy a feat, as it is beset with several intended deterrents. But, as I was sitting with him in the living room absorbed in a thread I was reading, I heard a conversation Lou was having with himself.
“No.” Then, again, “No.” “No.”, again. I look up and there he is biting on a spray bottle. Actually, he’s got the spray bottle in a position now such that it looks like he’s embracing it with his leg while biting on the trigger piece and each time following a bite with a “No.”.
I say, “Lou. Stop biting that.”
He says back: “No.”.
I laugh. I couldn’t help myself.
Lou laughs back.
I say, “Seriously, Lou. Knock it off.”
He replies with a loud whisper, “Whatever.”
Whatever?! Where did that come from??
I say, “Lou! What are you doing?”
He looks at me and then looks first to his left then behind him, as if he’s saying “Are you talking to me or another
parrot that looks just like me?”
I say “Louie. Come here.”
He says “I’m over it.” I don’t think I could even make this up…
I can see where this is going.
I stand up, making like I’m going to go over to him. He looks at me eyes wide and starts whistling to the spray bottle and bobbing his head up and down so it looks like he’s dancing with it.
Just innocently dancing with the spray bottle, so what’s my problem, any way?
I get up close. He lets the spray bottle fall on its side, then lets out a long, exasperated “hhhhhhahhhhhhh’. He is, apparently, thoroughly disgusted with me.
“Lou. Do you want a pistachio?”
He begins walking towards me. I hand him a pistachio. When he has it in his beak, I pick up the spray bottle and put it behind the couch. Lou drops the pistachio and says “Hey!” Then goes back to finding the pistachio he dropped. At least, he appears to.
Before turning back towards him I hear “No.”
In the 1/2 second I was busy facing the other direction, he has silently crept up the bookcase and is now biting a book.
I love my books. Lou also loves my books.
He loves to destroy them.
I say “Lou…”
He finishes my sentence “…no!”
Then adds, “be a good boy.”
The book drops to the ground below. Lou laughs.
I approach the bookcase and Lou says “Goodnight, Lou.”
Yep. That sounds about right. What a smart bird.
“She was not quite what you would call refined. She was not quite what you would call unrefined. She was the kind of person that keeps a parrot.” ~Mark Twain