Thursday, April 13, 2017

Karen writes about her parakeet

You want to know about my parakeet??  OK

His name was Petie and he was turquoise colored.  He was the only pet I was allowed to have (with eight kids, I understood, sort of, even then).  I paid for him with my baby sitting money.  I brought him home in his cage and my little brother (he was only about 3 at the time) reached in and grabbed him.  Petie went nuts and because of that experience it was harder to finger train him.  We'd let him out and then have to chase him all over the house to catch and put back in his cage.  I'd use a silk scarf, get close enough to throw it over him and then pick him up.  This is when I understood the theory of gravity…..a silk scarf does not fall straight down….it flutters down.  It took many tries to get that lightweight scarf over Petie

Eventually he finger trained and then it was real fun.  He would join us at the table while we played card games and "play" with us which generally meant him pulling the cards out of our hands.  He would play fight with my thumb nail getting so worked up he would regurgitate seed….I think he was in love with my fingernail…..

My funniest moment with Petie:   When my mother would make me angry enough that I had to work off the energy, I'd clean house.  Go from room to room, sweeping and dusting.  (No wonder I hate dusting and sweeping!)  We had vinyl floors throughout the house, so I'd just toss all the detritus into a pile and keep sweeping it from the front of the house to the back, then scoop it up and toss out.  Petie used to shred the papers on the bottom of his cage and one day while I was doing this cleaning and there was a pile there that included his shredded papers, we had an unannounced visit by someone looking to buy the house.  The lady took one look at the shredded paper and gasped, "Do you have mice?"  (That'll teach 'em to come unannounced).  I explained that no, this was from my bird's cage…..needless to say, they didn't buy the house.

I had Petie for about seven years before he died.  I did not have the "stick-to-itivity" to teach him to talk.  It got real boring at about 13 years old to keep repeating "Pretty bird".  I was out of school and working, and if I am totally honest here, neglecting little Petie.  I came home from work one day and he had died.  He's buried on the lot on Kamps Avenue in Appleton.  Requiesce in pace, Pete.

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