About three weeks ago my little Hannibal Lecter, also known as my cat Ringo, caught me a special gift. Unlike most of his thoughtful presents this one was very much alive & was not a lizard, rabbit, squirrel nor wild bird.
While watching a T.V. movie with my mother, Mister Ringo walked ever so casually into my bedroom carrying a squeaking parakeet in his jaws of life. I chased the blood thirsty carnivore through the living room, used my forceful Middle Eastern voice and the feline finally released the live animal. Huffing & puffing in fear, I set up a temporary home for the survivor, which ironically, was Mister Ringos cat kennel.
The lucky green, yellow & black Parakeet was not bleeding, limping or dying..the little booger was gunna make it!
I raced down to Petco, spent a solid $75.00 and built him some prime real-estate with food, water, beak stratching thing & cosmetic mirror.. all inclusive!
The next challenging task was naming him and yes, its a him, his beak is blue therefore birdie is a him. Mother was insisting on naming him some generic name like Lucky or Angel but considering Mister "Ringo" found his new tweeting feathered friend, I decided his name should be something somewhat cohesive, musical & symbolic like Lennon, John Lennon.
But, as times gone by, Mister Lennon the bird hasn't lived up to his name so the temporary tag is Mister Parakeet. Yes, lame, I know but I tend to build relationships fairly slowly, therefore time will tell what this Mister Parakeets name shall be.
Until then the pussy and the parakeet will have to become civil roommates.
To be continued . . .
