Pets. The question is why?

My daughter has a bird named “Fluffy, Destroyer of Worlds”. He doesn’t quite live up to his name but he can be, shall we say – feisty? Problem is, to enter Molly’s room one has to pass right by his home. It’s wise to take treats.

“Hello Destroyer, how are you today, my sweet little friend?”

“Hiss. Hiss.”

“There, there, sweetheart. Here’s a bit of apple.”

“Hiss.”

“Oh, you don’t want apple? Some sunflower seed then?”

“Hiss.”

“Okay, I understand. You’re not in the mood for seed. How about a lovely little pat instead?”

There follows several threats to remove the bird to a wildlife park and an involved search for sticky plasters.

But as I leave, I can’t resist attempting to pat him again. Because he’s just so fluffy.

And I have discovered that having seven plasters on my fingers makes prepping dinner a bit of a challenge.

And so my ultimate plan has succeeded.

“Anyone for pizza?”

 


17 thoughts on “Pets. The question is why?

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