quick story: Pet-free universe?

My resolve is wobbling. This is due to the gravitational influence of large planetary bodies within the em orbit. The slightest elliptic variation could push me over. And let's face it, I am a push-over.

Last Sunday--of my own initiative--I went to meet Goliath. Goliath is a Blue and Gold Macaw parrot, and he's for sale because his current Mom and Dad have to move to an aviary-unfriendly apartment. I thought he might make a nice companion for Rummy, our Myers parrot. He's cheap too, for a Macaw, but when you factor in that the cage is included, he is rock-bottom fire-sale cheap.

WHAT a good fella! He has an excellent vocabulary, although he was a bit shy with it, but he did his tricks for us--he waved hello, danced, and made kissy noises. And let me tell you, these birds are gorgeous--about 2 and a half feet long from stem to stern, a Macaw has electric colors, mostly blue but there's a lot of gold and red too. A Macaw's face has an area of pure-white flesh.

And then comes the beak.

The beak is black and it is big.

Like a pair of loppers, this beak could easily snip off your thumb. Not that Goliath was at all aggressive--he was quite well-behaved, but did grab my coat sleeve and now I have 2 quarter-sized holes in my sleeve.

I told them I'd think it over, knowing already that he felt too big and intimidating and scary. They were also trying to find a home for a toy miniature Doberman Pinscher--a mini Min-Pin. This was the the cutest little puppy! All they needed to do was skootch me one little bit in the direction of that pup, and I'd have brought him home, but I guess they figured I was there for the bird and that was that. So I left, feeling like I was dodging feathery and furry bullets.

Today, I "worked from home" (when I wasn't off shopping or blogging or reading the newspapers), but during my conference call with clients, Sam ushered in her stray cat. So there I am, on a call with, well, basically, people who hold my continued employment in their hands, and this cat comes sauntering by on its way to Rummy's cage. And Rummy is no dummy, so she started flapping and squawking and carrying on, which caused me to silently start flapping and squawking and carrying on until the cat was peeled off the birdcage. This was tricky, as I was at the same time explaining my approach to educating patients with severe diabetes.

Sam is putting up a strong argument, but my line is "the cat is clean and fat and friendly so it's got a home!" and I'm sticking with it.