Bane of My Existence

I was telling my Mom this morning that she should share with you all what That Dumb Dog (Mom and Dad call her that sometimes--everybody in this house has multiple names, and let me tell you it can get confusing) did yesterday, and you know what she said? "I'm too tired. Besides, I wasn't even here for that. Why don't you do it?"

Well all righty then. I think I will. In fact, I could tell you lots of stories if Mom likes this one, and she'll let me. I don't think Mom posts nearly often enough. I mean, we've  shared this nestbox for a couple of years now and she's managed to eke out a measly 62 posts in all that time. I bet I could tell 62 stories in a matter of months.

My first one will be about the dog. Bane of my existence, that dog.

Mom doesn't usually come home from work on Wednesdays. She picks up dinner for herself somewhere and goes straight to her friend's for Scrabble. I really don't understand that game. "Peekaboo!" I understand, but Scrabble? I mean, I've watched Mom play it with my big brother, and on Facebook, but I still don't really get it. People are big on words, aren't they? I really prefer beeps and whistles. And they aren't even saying these words, like they keep trying to get me to do, they're just moving little wooden squares with letters and numbers around on them. Beeps and whistles sound better than "2,3,7 times 2 makes 14" and stuff like that they keep saying when they're playing. Plus, beeps and whistles carry further through the forest, you know?

And those little squares (my Mom calls them "tiles," but they're not tile like on the bathroom floor, so I don't know why she calls them that) look like they'd be put to better use as foot toys for me. I bet I could chew me up some of those squares!

But I digress. Usually once Mom comes home, she's in for the night. Yesterday, she only came home for a few minutes because she'd left the house in the morning without her coat, and it was cold, and I think that must have confused the dog. I don't understand coats. I wear the same thing all the time, but people are not only born naked, they stay that way, and then instead of covering themselves in the same colors all the time like we do so a body can reliably tell which subspecies they are, they go and change that stuff they use instead of feathers or fur several times a day! I mean, Mom was wearing blue when she got up, black when she left for work and came home the first time, white when she left and returned the second time, and blue again before she went to bed. Whereas I'm red and black and gray and white in exactly the same pattern 24/7 and have been for over 12 years. I've never seen anything like it. Evolution takes a funny turn, sometimes, doesn't it? Naked apes. Go figure.

Anyway, back to my story. Mom came home to get her coat. And this guy from the nestbox across the street wanted to borrow something so Mom let him come into the garage to get it. And that's when the dog went nuts. She's always like that to some extent when people come over, but this time was nothing short of spectacular. The whole time the guy was here, That Dumb Dog barked her fool head off. I thought I was back in my first house with those kids my other parents kept bringing home. Only this barking business bounces off the walls and ceilings in a way two noisy little boys never could. Oh, my head! We parrots have a very acute sense of hearing you know.

And here's the thing: The neighbor went back to his nestbox, and Mom got in her car and went to her friend's, and the dog just barked louder! My Dad says she thought Mom had got kidnapped by that man. I don't know how he knew that, because the dog talks even less than I do, but that's what he said. I thought he was joking: our neighbor's such a shrimp that Mom could squash him like a bug. Besides which, he seems nice. Like, before the dog, he used to come over and do stuff like fix the electricity for Dad.

I don't know how long That Damn Dog (that's what Dad calls her sometimes, like last night he called her that a lot--I just call her Bane) barked, but Dad says it was at least an hour and a half. I don't know how long that is, but it was a long time. He kept explaining to her that Mom was okay, but she didn't quiet down until he lay down on the floor with her.

So undignified, and dignity is so important. Dad says I'm a silly bird, but he's wrong. I'm not the one lying on the floor! I'm not the one all hysterical over Mom leaving the house for a little game of Scrabble. I mean, I'll do my locator call for a few minutes when Mom or Dad leave, but only for a few minutes.

In fact, I'm nothing if not dignified. I should have a more dignified name. "Riley" isn't very dignified. It's pretty, and I like to hear people say it. I'll even say it myself once in a while. But it's not befitting of my natural dignity. Bane, on the other hand, is named after a goddess, and sometimes Mom and Dad call her that name, too. It gets confusing. Mom says the goddess Bane is named after wandered around Crete (is that near Cameroon? That's where my kind are from--one of the places we're from, anyway) disguised as a heifer 'cause she was hiding from another goddess whose husband cheated on her with the one the dog's named after. (Are you still with me? I know that was complicated.)

Psittacus Erithacus (that's me) mate for life, and I'm very proud of us for that. Because we do, I don't really understand this cheating business. It sounds undignified to me, especially if another hen was to catch me at it. The heifer business, now, that's definitely undignified. I've seen them on the television. They can be sort of cute, but I wouldn't say they are dignified. Still, I think I should be named after a goddess, too. It isn't fair.

Oh, dang, I'm off on another tangent, aren't I?

The funny thing is, when Mom came home, the dumb dog didn't even act as excited as she does when Mom comes home from an ordinary errand. Like she'd already forgotten the whole thing, or something. I don't understand that: When Dad stays gone too long, I make sure he knows how I feel. I won't come out of my cage, won't step up (or if I do, I make sure to bite him first) and generally sulk until I think he's suffered long enough.

But that's the dog. Bane of my existence.

Posted by Riley,

éminence grise of the Wood household
(Doesn't that sound dignified?)