My brother keeps joking I should get some cockatiels because he knows I don't care for hookbills. Jokes on him, I like exactly 4 types of hookbills and cockatiels are one of them LOL don't tempt me

May Blog a Day, Day 25

stg tumblr, y u eat my posts?

Anyway! Pets! Talk about your current pets, favorite pets, childhood pets, and include pictures, except not, because tumblr sucks.

Current Pets:

Missy (the scruffy one) and Momo (the corgi one). Missy is 14, Momo is 5.

Favorite pet: Missy. (Don’t tell Momo) Miss Dog has been with my family for 13 of her 14 years...and in my house for 10 of those years. I love her so much. She has definitely mellowed with age, which I must admit, helps that love grow. (It’s kinda hard to feel deep affection for someone who’s barking her head off at Ass O’Clock in the morning, Momo.)

Pet who the pets probably think is my favorite: Momo. Mostly because a tired dog is a good dog. Momo gets training and treats, walkies, and car rides more often than Missy, just because she needs to get worn out!

Favorite cat: Billie. She lived to be 23 years old, and purred like a damn boat motor. She liked to sleep on my pillow, right next to my head. I miss her.

Most useful cat: Nushi. Sometimes, things would happen in the middle of the night and I'd miss them, because I didn't hear them. The first time this happened, the dog had locked herself in the laundry room and was whining. At first Nushi tried to wake me up by jumping on me and then running to the area of the problem. I thought, "Nice, she's gone, I can go back to sleep!" Totally missed the message. So Nushi ran to the laundry room door and started screaming. "MEEEEROWWOOOO! MROOOWOWW!" That was too obnoxious to ignore, so I went to the laundry room door and heard the dog whining. I let her out. Nushi also alerted me to my phone vibrating, the toilet overflowing, and someone's fireworks starting the grass nearby on fire. (The fire was no danger; there was a creek between the grass and the townhomes)

The only birb I consider a friend: Blueberry, Mean Aunt’s blue-headed pionus.

I’m still scared of her, because parrots are scary. But we’re cool. I give her head scritches and baths and treats.

before Ford found out that his phoenix was Stan, what were some of the things Stan might have done to voice his frustrations? Did he do anything particularly birdy or pet like? What did Ford do besides cleaning up after Phoenix Stan that he was most embarrassed about after he found at the truth? Did Ford do anything in front of Prometheus the bird that he wouldn't have done in front of Stan, or that Stan wished he could un-see?

Okay, so, my house back in Iowa has been home to many birds over the years.  Parakeets, cockatiels, parrots; there’s actually still a Maximilian pionus named Rosie puttering around.  So I’m gonna try to use some of that birdly knowledge for this.

Stan definitely went after the furniture.  Part of it was the “beak is constantly growing, gotta gnaw” bird instinct.  But Stan targeted specific pieces of furniture that he knew Ford wouldn’t want chewed up.  Ford got toys for “Prometheus” to chew instead, and it worked, although Stan will deny playing with the bird toys.  Stan also would randomly screech for no reason, usually at an inconvenient time, for optimum annoyance.  And he hissed a lot, frustrated with the situation.  But, other than chewing the furniture, the main weapon phoenix Stan used was treating the entire house like his own personal bedroom/bathroom.  He felt that the most annoying thing he could do would be to make messes everywhere.  So, when he was first allowed to wander throughout the house (he was kept in a cage for the first week, until he could “prove he was trustworthy”), he left little “presents” in almost every room.  Sure, it’s juvenile, but this is Stan.  And even if Stan wasn’t prone to juvenile revenge, he didn’t have many options.  And it’s almost poetic justice, since having to use newspaper and being watched while he took a shit was one of the things Stan was saltiest about.

For pet/bird things...We used to have a cockatiel that would dance with her shadow; when she saw her shadow, she’d bob her head and move back and forth and cute stuff like that.  Stan dances with his shadow a few times.  It gets lonely, being a bird that can’t really communicate.  Stan also rode around on Fiddleford or Ford’s shoulder a lot, and when Fiddleford had a cup of orange juice, Stan would stick his beak in for a sip.  Stan also tried to make a nest four different times, but was foiled each time by Fiddleford, who did not appreciate Ford’s pet phoenix destroying the bedding for a nest.  Oh!  Whenever Stan felt especially salty at Ford, he would ride around on Fiddleford’s shoulder and nibble Fiddleford’s ear in that friendly way birds do.  While maintaining eye contact with Ford.  And, something I mentioned in my ficlets, Stan definitely liked getting petted or scratched, particularly if it was in “the good spot” (which, in my experience, is the top of the bird’s head).  Ooh, and even though Stan could have easily fought down the urge to chirp during sunrise, he didn’t bother.

When Ford first brought home the injured phoenix he found, he wasn’t sure whether it was male or female.  Sure, it had brightly colored feathers, typically seen in male birds, but a phoenix is a magical bird.  It might not follow those sexual dimorphism patterns.  Without considering any other options, Ford immediately decided to attempt to “vent sex” the phoenix.  AKA try to see its junk.  Luckily, Fiddleford intervened and suggested some alternate routes before Ford managed to even lay Stan down, let alone examine...anything.  Sure, Ford never actually did the vent sexing.  But after the revelation, when he remembers trying to, Ford gets a nice glass of whiskey.  That was the most embarrassing thing for Ford.  But cleaning up Stan’s “messes” and treating him like a pet (and raising him from a chick when Stan accidentally resurrected himself) were pretty embarrassing after the fact, too.

Stan’s cage was kept in Ford’s room until it was discovered that Prometheus was Stan.  Stan saw everything that happened in that room.  Everything.  He really wishes he hadn’t.