In a certain light, there’s someting around his eyes that reminds me of my father. Truth be told, I didn’t notice it at first. Once I did, a certain confirmation bias crept in every time I spent time with him.
His behaviours began to echo my father’s. When he sees himself in a mirror, he puffs out his chest and holds himself high, turning this way and that, giving himself the once-over of approval. He demands that I listen to him, attend to his needs over mine. He becomes increasingly more insistent. I pretend not to notice, yet, I cannot maintain it: I always acquiesce.
He is Tweety, an Indian Red-Necked Parakeet. My mother, in her infinite wisdom and totally out of the blue, gave me her then two-year-old bird and all his worldly possessions as a gift 11 years ago. Have you ever tried to say no when your mother gives you a living being as a gift??
I was worried.