Don’t blame me - I wanted a gorilla
BURTON W. COLE, Editor
By Burton W. Cole
For one of my birthdays many years ago, I was gifted two parakeets that I never wanted.
“You like watching the bird feeders out the window,” the kindly giver of the gift explained. “Now you have birds of your own.”
I also liked watching the gorillas at the zoo, but that didn’t mean I wanted one in my house. I already had two kids at the time.
I suppose apes might be much easier on the furniture than kids. It probably would be easier to train a chimpanzee than a kid to clean its room.
And when was the last time you saw anyone turn down a gorilla selling candy for a school fundraiser? Selling out would take hardly any time at all.
“These aren’t gorillas,” my gift-giver said. “These are birds. Little birds. Birds that your wife and kids want very much. So here. Take them.”
“But I like my outdoor bird feeders. I see a variety of birds — and they all stay outside. I don’t have to change any papers or clean up little bombs that can be dropped from any altitude. I don’t have to crawl under couches for escapees. And my outdoor birds don’t stare at me while I’m eating or try to steal my easy chair.”
That’s what happened whenever we had cats. I could never sit in my own recliner because a tabby always got there first. I ended up perched painfully on a metal folding chair, uncomfortable and grumbling.
“You know,” my wife said, “you are the human in this relationship. Pick up the cat and move her. You can sit her on your lap. Establish who’s boss.”
That’s the problem with pets and me — we learn quickly who’s boss, and it’s never me. In no time at all, our pets have me trained to open doors, fetch food, take walks on command — and to yield my favorite chair.
That’s why my daughter never got the turtles she wanted, nor did my son have the iguana he thought was pretty cool. I also “missed” pointed hints about ponies, lambs, rabbits, alpacas, panda bears and any dinosaurs that would be available.
The thought of being bossed about by a pet bullfrog or surrendering my seat to pack of salamanders couldn’t convince me to give in.
I grew up on a small cattle farm. The cows stayed in the barn or roamed the pasture. No Jersey, Holstein or Black Angus ever ambled inside and plopped down on my easy chair. Cows are too polite. I like cows.
What I got were the birds.
Compared to other feathered fiends, uh friends, parakeets — also known as “budgies” — are relatively inexpensive. So you usually end up with two or three to start.
The cages also are relatively inexpensive, as is their food, swings, bells, mirrors, toys, gravel, extra dishes, perches, guide books, talk training tapes, photo sessions...
Pretty soon, all the little, inexpensive stuff blows your budget. I think that’s how parakeets became known as budgies.
Parakeets chatter. If I cranked up the TV so that I could hear it above their squawking, they screeched more loudly.
“For crying out loud, cover the bird cage and turn down the TV,” my wife shouted. “You and your birds are giving me a headache.”
“Don’t call them MY birds. YOU wanted the birds,” I snapped. “I preferred gorillas. And my gorilla would want a pet chicken. And they’d all stay outdoors.”
“And how could we afford to feed a gorilla and his chicken?”
I smiled. “Fundraiser candy. Nobody would dare turn down a gorilla. If they tried, the chicken would peck their toes until they gave in.”
Or I could train the budgies to meow at the dog, which drives him absolutely nuts. But it would get him out of my chair.
Burt’s favorite pets are fish. They can’t leave the fish tank. Send care and feeding tips to the old crank at burton.w.cole@gmail.com or on the Burton W. Cole page on Facebook.