Tissue & Me

“I think that the bird needs a tissue,” my husband said. “The bird has allergies.” I instantly began to feel sorry for the bird, whom I have renamed as ‘Bird’, because hey, I know allergies. It took me a while to realize that my husband was being facetious. Here’s a little background on the bird: It’s an African grey parrot that I inherited through marriage. In other words, the bird isn’t mine. It’s his. My husband’s. HIS bird that mimics ME by sneezing and blowing its nose. If you are familiar with African grey parrots, they are known for being quite temperamental, and this bird is ornery and sometimes aggressive towards me.

Once I realized what was going on, I did not find it amusing. The bird has a sense of humor. It’ll turn its little bird head, look at me with one squinty eye, and sneeze numerous times back to back. At this point, I don’t believe that the bird is mimicking me, the blasted bird is mocking me! The bird has ‘sneezed’ so many times that it now lets out an exasperated “whoo” afterwards. The poor bird is sooo tired and exhausted from the sneezing. I look at the bird and tell my husband to get the bird before it’s emancipated from the confines of its cage. I’m so miffed. I shouldn’t even be around raggedy pets anyway with all of their hair and dander and feathers. I sit down and give my husband the side-eye as if it’s his fault that the bird has mocked me. I get even more aggravated as bird feathers fly through the living room and kitchen. I throw up my hands in frustration and leave to get tissue and cleaning supplies. I tell myself that I can’t stand that bird, but on my way out I notice that it doesn’t have water. I grudgingly give the annoyance fresh water. I hear a soft “thank you” as I close the cage door. I guess Bird isn’t too bad after all. I may buy some bird kibble on the way back.