Ay Ton’!

TonyAbout a year ago, our cockatiel, Data, died after having been with us over twenty years. Data literally delivered himself, flying out of the sky and landing on my sister’s head and refusing to leave. Although pushy about being invited in, he was the perfect house companion: he loved to be petted and danced to rock and country alike — except for Willie Nelson. For some odd reason, just saying “Willie Nelson” in his presence would set off a fit of screeching. ::shrug:: To each his own, I suppose.

Data’s death left a surprisingly large hole for such a small critter, but Sunday, my brother and his wife brought my mom a new cockatiel. Being the quintessential Sopranos fan, Mom promptly dubbed the youngster Tony. Since his arrival, Tony has been socializing and singing like a… well, like a cockatiel. Mom might as well be Dr. Melfi. Thank God, there are no Feds in the house. Sorry, DJ.

Welcome to your new home, Tony. We’re glad to have you in the family.


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