Last week, Chris and I found ourselves killing time inside a pet store. We visited the pythons and the puppies, the gerbils and the guppies, and then, finally, a big, green $1,200 parrot. “Look at this guy,” Chris said, leaning closer. The bird lunged towards him. “Careful,” I said. The bird stared with his beady eyes.
I turned away, bending down to look at the two white finches in a lower cage, when there it was: a wolf whistle. I stood up. “Was that the parrot?”
Chris burst into laughter. “Yeah, right when you bent down!” The parrot was now bopping around in his cage, still staring at us. Staring at me, more specifically. “I think he likes your butt,” Chris gleefully announced. “Bend over again?”
I obliged—as you do—and the parrot whistled once more.
I know it’s just a bird. But that’s weird.