I have decided that Lucy derives some kind of strange bird enjoyment from sabotaging my cleaning attempts. As any parent of a toddler can attest, cleaning a house with children is like winning the lottery, near impossible.
I decide to start Saturday house cleaning with the dishes. Lucy views dish time as bath time. No sooner did I have my arms covered in suds than Lucy made her way to the water dish in her cage. For those readers who have never seen a bird bath, let me tell you, it’s not just a bath for the bird but for the entire area around the bird. Very quickly the entire bottom of the cage, and the area around it, was saturated with wet newspaper, bird droppings, and seed casings. Of course, what bat is complete without a little singing and preening? After a musical repertoire that consisted of loud, nonsensical callings of “doo doo doo”; bath time ended with a critical study of herself in the mirror before proclaiming “you’re a pretty girl”.
After the dishes were clean, it was time to roll up my sleeves and tackle Lucy’s cage. As I sat on the floor scrubbing the cage with a mixture of water, dish soap, and vinegar; I began to feel a strange sensation like someone playing with my hair. I looked up to find Lucy standing over me methodically grinding a food pellet into my hair. Lovely. I finish scrubbing the cage and gather up all the dirty newspaper before rolling Lucy’s cage into the kitchen so that I can sweep all the interesting items that end up underneath. Since the weather was gorgeous, I open up the windows to let in the fresh air. Can you hear the ominous music yet? I grab the broom, start sweeping, and
“HELP! HELP! HELP! AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!”
Yes, Lucy views the broom as evil and decides to yell help at the top of her lungs. I implore her to stop because I have no idea how to explain the situation should the police show up at my door. No really officers, I’m not torturing anyone. My macaw hates the broom. How does Lucy respond? She sticks her tongue out at me.
I finish sweeping as fast as possible and roll the cage back. Success! The cage is gleaming, the floor is scrubbed, and fresh newspaper covers the majority of the floor. Lucy walks around the cage surveying my work. There is one spot where the paper hasn’t covered the floor completely. “Poop!” she calls smugly as she does just that.
“Really? Did you really need to do that?” I ask her.
Lucy walks over to me, places her beak against my lips, makes a kissing noise, and mutters “you’re a good girl”.