To those of you who may be expecting an hilarious story, detailing the events of the "Cockatoo Shower and Cybershot Demise", I apologize. That tale is not quite ready for publication, but I hope this more recent cockatoo cartoon will suffice. This is what happened first thing, this morning.

 

This morning when I went in to feed The Bird, I found no bird. Just one lonely feather underneath his perch. The bird was gone!

 

My first concern was that the cat had somehow gotten into the aviary, and counted coup upon precious little T-Boy. I was quite certain that was not the case; there weren't enough feathers; just that one lying there, like some hideous warning flare. I reassured myself, first by verifying that Baby, the cat, was lying contentedly in her kitchen bed, and the door had remained closed all night. I remembered, too, that recent encounters between the two, had given strong indications that the cat was not the slightest bit interested in T.

 

I called out to T-Boy, and got no response. I looked in all the little corners wherein a cockatoo might hide. I strained to see if he might be hiding out of sight, up in the lofty tree branches beneath the vegas. (There have been times when it has taken me a few seconds to spot him.) No trace. It was a relief -- no pile of feathers -- but a sense of panic began to well up inside my belly.

 

I thought maybe one of the less civilized dogs, or perhaps even a wandering ferrel cat, might have come in through the doggie door, and absconded with poor T. I checked, and found the back door closed and bolted, so no doggie access. Relief and panic.

 

"It must be some kind of an April Fool's joke!" I thought. Maybe one of Diana's friends was playing a prank? But I still think the dogs would have barked enough to wake me up, if anyone had come in.

 

My heart was racing ... beyond my immediate concern for the obnoxious little character, for whom I have developed an extreme affection  ... my second thought was, "What in the world will I tell Diana?!!"

 

After a few minutes of concentrated searching, I found T-Boy perched on the lamp in the bathroom. He had apparently walked from the "aviary", through a heavily curtained doorway, through the utility room, and into the bath. Evidence indicated that he had been in that room for some time, for he had destroyed a bath towel on the edge of the sink, and there was a rather impressive "deposit" beneath the lamp.

 

He showed no sign of trauma or distress, but I really could have sworn he was grinning at me. He had that rather self-impressed expression he gets whenever he has succeeded in getting my goat.

 (It's probably my fault; I had been carrying him around on my shoulder as I was working in there, yesterday afternoon.)

 

T-Boy WILL be roosting in his cage tonight.

 

Whenever a day starts off like this, I have found that the best idea is just to stay indoors.