The parrots have their own pet peeves when it comes to me.  Some of them I have to giggle at and try not to tease them and other ones they have, people giggle at me for and I have to try not to assault them.

The most unaffected bird of the three would be Idris, The Doctor’s Wife, the one that makes the least bit of sense to most people.

Jak does not like most hats. None of them like my gloves even though they are fingerless and you can still see half of them. When I changed my hair from pale pink to dark purple, it took me two days to figure out why the birds would come over to give me my kiss and then bite my face instead. My newest toy is a wig that I purchase off etsy. It covers my cropped blue hair with long, dark chocolate tresses.

Who hates me? Jak and Koi.

Who doesn’t care? Idris. Of course.

Cats are fun in their own rights but are more complicated than dogs. Dogs are the first and easiest to read, especially for younger children who may only be learning to read facial expressions and not understanding how many subtleties there are in body language.

Stewart is an evil little bastard. Everything about this asthmatic kitty is play play play play COUGH COUGH *inhaler* play play play. Cats carry many different motives and this little moron has a poker face.  Often, when Tommy or Yue play and are belly up on the rug laying as still and vulnerable as can be, you can still read some sort of thought process flicking gently through their tail. These cats are fishing. They are fishing for a kill.

Not Stew; Stew’s a Turdle. He lays on his back, belly up, swaying around a bit, not moving his tail at all, waiting for the opportunity to come along for him to be a big turd and catch something to play with.  He’s went right up to the young sir of the house and laid down next to him. Young sir decided to try to pet him.


We told you don’t try to play with that cat.


That’s what he does. If you want to pet a cat there are three other good ones. Sorry man, that cat isn’t right.