Kirby in the pokey
My darling little bird has been with my family for over fourteen years. For over three years, he's been our only pet. Therefore, he tends to get away with a lot of stuff that he didn't before.
We think he's cute when he...
...flies on my mom's head or shoulder
...flies onto one of the chairs in our kitchen eating area
...lands on the family room coffee table, then walks around on it
...walks toward anyone while on the floor
However, there's one thing I cannot take any longer. That would be Kirby flying on my bed. Now, if he didn't leave his calling card, I wouldn't care.
But.
Kirby *always* leaves me some proof that he's been somewhere. Also, if you weren't aware, birds poop oh...about every ten minutes or so. So, if he's there for eleven minutes or longer, that means he's going to leave something. Ick.
So...
Whenever I catch my dear sweet birdy on my bed, I stick him in his cage. Normally he's just free to fly everywhere, so being put in his cage where he can't fly around *really* pisses him off. He will screech and chirp for long periods of time, as if I've forgotten that he's in there and doesn't like it. Also, he may quiet down for a while, but if I randomly start whistling or if he hears me in the bathroom (which will set him off regardless, because usually after I'm in my bath I'll come back to my bedroom, where he lives), he'll start up again.
My mom thinks I'm being mean, and I suppose I'm getting some sort of sadistic pleasure from it, but it did help for a little while the last time I did this. In June/July I did the same thing, and for about a month he didn't go on my bed at all, which was wonderful. Then around the time I went to camp it started up again, and when I got back I found a nice little pile waiting for me on my bed. So gross. What's worse is it's on the end where I put my head.
I just hope that he gets it into his little birdy brain that bed = bad; not pooping on bed = good. C'mon, Pavlov.
In other news, tomorrow should be a big day. Mom and I start class tomorrow, and rumor has it that there will be a *boy* in it. Whee! And tomorrow evening Laura and I shall get together in her faboo new room to watch movies.
Lastly: In reading the paper the past few days, I came across some names from my past...both related to flute choirs, oddly enough. Because school started this week in my area, the local paper visited schools on their first days to see how they went. A neighboring town's middle school is overcrowded, so some of their classes are in trailers, including one taught by a former friend of mine from high school. (We were really close until I realized she was a pathological liar...actually, it's the Sharon of my whole Angela Chase universe.) The other person played in a tennis match against a high schooler from the same neighboring town. I was highly impressed, because that high schooler is the best player at her school...which makes me think the girl I know is one of the best at *her* school. Very cool. I'm quite happy for her. Unfortunately, the girl I know lost, but seeing how she's not from this area I was still thrilled to see her name in the paper. (I know her from a community flute choir I did through my college. It was for junior high students through adults, and I was a sort-of assistant there, which is how I'm many years out of high school yet still know a current high school student.)
We think he's cute when he...
...flies on my mom's head or shoulder
...flies onto one of the chairs in our kitchen eating area
...lands on the family room coffee table, then walks around on it
...walks toward anyone while on the floor
However, there's one thing I cannot take any longer. That would be Kirby flying on my bed. Now, if he didn't leave his calling card, I wouldn't care.
But.
Kirby *always* leaves me some proof that he's been somewhere. Also, if you weren't aware, birds poop oh...about every ten minutes or so. So, if he's there for eleven minutes or longer, that means he's going to leave something. Ick.
So...
Whenever I catch my dear sweet birdy on my bed, I stick him in his cage. Normally he's just free to fly everywhere, so being put in his cage where he can't fly around *really* pisses him off. He will screech and chirp for long periods of time, as if I've forgotten that he's in there and doesn't like it. Also, he may quiet down for a while, but if I randomly start whistling or if he hears me in the bathroom (which will set him off regardless, because usually after I'm in my bath I'll come back to my bedroom, where he lives), he'll start up again.
My mom thinks I'm being mean, and I suppose I'm getting some sort of sadistic pleasure from it, but it did help for a little while the last time I did this. In June/July I did the same thing, and for about a month he didn't go on my bed at all, which was wonderful. Then around the time I went to camp it started up again, and when I got back I found a nice little pile waiting for me on my bed. So gross. What's worse is it's on the end where I put my head.
I just hope that he gets it into his little birdy brain that bed = bad; not pooping on bed = good. C'mon, Pavlov.
In other news, tomorrow should be a big day. Mom and I start class tomorrow, and rumor has it that there will be a *boy* in it. Whee! And tomorrow evening Laura and I shall get together in her faboo new room to watch movies.
Lastly: In reading the paper the past few days, I came across some names from my past...both related to flute choirs, oddly enough. Because school started this week in my area, the local paper visited schools on their first days to see how they went. A neighboring town's middle school is overcrowded, so some of their classes are in trailers, including one taught by a former friend of mine from high school. (We were really close until I realized she was a pathological liar...actually, it's the Sharon of my whole Angela Chase universe.) The other person played in a tennis match against a high schooler from the same neighboring town. I was highly impressed, because that high schooler is the best player at her school...which makes me think the girl I know is one of the best at *her* school. Very cool. I'm quite happy for her. Unfortunately, the girl I know lost, but seeing how she's not from this area I was still thrilled to see her name in the paper. (I know her from a community flute choir I did through my college. It was for junior high students through adults, and I was a sort-of assistant there, which is how I'm many years out of high school yet still know a current high school student.)