Polka Dots??

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I grew up in the 50’s and 60’s. I dislike formality of almost any kind and I hate to be told what to do. I love feeling comfortable and relaxed, so most of my wardrobe consists of jeans and t-shirts. I recently purchased new pj’s; basically a top and shorts. The shorts are quite comfortable and nice for wearing around the house – but obviously they’re not denim.

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I was wearing the new shorts and a t-shirt the other night when we went upstairs to hold the birds. I sat down in the Lazy Boy with Alex and began to talk to him. He totally ignored me. He was perched on my left arm, body arched out and down, with his face as close to my shorts as he could get, just staring!

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They’re called polka dots, I told him. He was fascinated, but eventually he stopped staring and returned to normal.

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Well, apparently Alex wasn’t the only bird shocked by the sight of the dots. Every time I held another bird we went through the same routine, each bird staring at the shorts like they were some alien being.

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Spike is usually the last bird that I hold – the line up usually goes like this: Alex, Rani, Peeper, then maybe Classy or Gideon (but they usually don’t want to be held, just petted at their cages), Emelio and finally Spike. Spikey was not content to just stare from her spot on my arm. Oh no, not that one – she had to get much closer than that.

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As she made her way down to my legs I began to get nervous. Spike is the reason I had the mole on my neckline removed – she will try to remove moles, freckles, stray beard hair. All week she’s been after a particular hair on Mark’s chin and she won’t be happy until that offending hair has been removed. The thought of a bite on my leg just gave me the willies!!

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I frantically scooped her up, almost yelling: “Oh, fer cryin’ out loud, they’re only POLKA DOTS!”

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Yeah . . . I think I’m gonna stick with that denim . . .
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Cathy