Okay, so our last Sennie didn’t work out so well. Poor Dewey.

But Pratchett’s breeder Tracy had her annual throw-down and show last weekend, and I had to go see her to say hey and pick up some bird toys. It was only being polite, really.

The funny part is that Charlie made me promise not to come home with another bird. And I yanked his chain, like, “oh…I can’t promise, you know how it is…” But truthfully, I had zero intention of doing any such thing. No, seriously.

See, my plan has been that once there are fewer other pets around (hopefully many many years down the road -May Kassie and Sammy live forever and ever, Amen) I’ll adopt somebody from a rescue. These little guys live so long and there are so many have horror stories you wouldn’t believe. I’ve always had pound-puppies and street cats- why would winged friends be any different?

Good plan, right? A socially conscious and well reasoned plan?

Yeah. That’s all well and good until a tiny 14 week-old green fluffball runs up your arm and start literally cooing in your ear. Then seals the deal by willfully entangling himself in your hair.

So…it looks like we’re going to try this thing again. Pratchett’s not thrilled, but he’s cultivating his own little patch of denial. They’re living in separate cages in opposite sides of the house, so he just pretends the little one doesn’t exist.

He/she (too young to sex) is as yet nameless. This is the part I’m bad at, but we’re working on it. I even googled ‘pet names,’ figuring there’d be something interesting- sure enough, there are multiple out there sites to assist the naming-disabled. This one even has a species selection guide, but their bird names are particularly trite, so we’re going to go it on our own.

Any suggestions are welcome, and we’ll see how it goes!

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