Oliver: Parakeet, cockatiel provide flying lessons, adventures in pet sitting

Pets and caring for animals have been a big part of my life for as long as I can remember.

In fact, it goes back even before I remember. There’s a funny photo of me as a baby with a look of surprise while sitting near our dog at the time, a Doberman named Boots.

Growing up, we always had dogs. My younger brother and I picked out Stormy, the runt of the litter and a cross between a German shepherd and a collie. We would go on to get another Doberman (my father’s choice), a miniature poodle (my mother’s choice) and a Lhasa Apso-Pekingese mix.

Since we lived outside of town on two acres, we also had outside cats and a host of farm animals, including chickens, ducks, geese, rabbits and goats.

Added to all of that were some “extra” pets that we accumulated over the years.

Despite my mother’s repeated warnings that we were not supposed to play any fun fair games where a goldfish was a prize, I did manage to win one. My mother relented and let me bring it home.

I suppose I thought raising a fish wouldn’t be too difficult. After all, it seems easy: feed it, clean the bowl and let it be.

Sadly, though, I learned that goldfish weren’t too keen on being my pets. One after another jumped out of the bowl, as if to say that suicide was to be preferred to living with me. I soon gave up any designs on more fish.

My brother also managed to persuade my parents to let him have a guinea pig. Although it was cute, it made a lot of noise, and its bedding would cause me to have an allergic reaction.

As an adult, I have always had cats, finding that indoor cats were independent enough to take care of themselves during the day and needy enough when I was around to make me feel wanted.

My adopted grandparents, Nanny and Baba, had a parakeet in a cage. As a kid, I thought that was the coolest thing. My mother must have shot down the idea quickly, because I don’t ever recall asking to have one of my own.

So, I was delighted when Tony’s other caregiver, Andre, took me up on the offer to watch his family’s parakeet and cockatiel while his family’s apartment was being renovated.

Because my husband, Tony, has early onset Alzheimer’s disease, I knew that I’d need to keep the birds in an area where he couldn’t get to them. He likes to twist knobs and open things. I saw that as a recipe for disaster.

The large birdcage wound up in our finished basement. There’s some natural light down there, but I also made sure to leave the lights on during the day and then turn them off when I went to bed.

I’d also make a point of visiting Mellow, the cockatiel, and Juvy, the parakeet, repeatedly during the day to make sure they got some human interaction.

Mellow was the friendliest of the birds, making catcalls whenever he was trying to get his head stroked. Juvy, on the other hand, would fly to the other side of the cage whenever I approached.

How hard could this be? Not too hard, or at least that’s how it was for the first few days. I even started to think that maybe, just maybe, I could handle having a bird of my own.

Then one night I went down to see them, and the cage was empty. My heart sank.

I found them perched a few feet away on an armoire. Uh, now what? I thought to myself. Andre hadn’t really given me a lesson in bird wrangling, and I certainly didn’t want to hurt them.

Mellow seemed like the one to go after, since I had established what I thought to be a bond. However, as soon as I approached him, he acted like he had no idea who I was. In fact, he flapped those wings of his and landed on top of my head. Ridiculous, but true.

I did my best to stay calm, and he soon flew after the parakeet and landed on top of their cage. The door remained open just in case they had the bright idea of returning from whence they came.

I, however, was declaring defeat. I just made sure they’d be contained and left the catching to Andre in the morning. He did so and told me that those little escape artists do that at home, too.

Happily, that was the only time they made a break for it. However, it was enough of a reminder that maybe having a pet right now might not be the best idea. I have enough to take care of.

• Joan Oliver is the former Northwest Herald assistant news editor. She has been associated with the Northwest Herald since 1990. She can be reached at jolivercolumn@gmail.com.