I had a pet bird— her name was Lucy.
I’ve written this story before, but it’s so appropriate.
Lucy was 23 when we adopted her. She’d spent the past 19 years at a vet’s office after her first owner died.
She was an asshole.
She was brilliant at mimicry— I would often come running into the room to check on my whining puppy or meowing cat just to find Lucy sitting there with her smug little bird face.
“Meow.”
“Fuck off, Lucy.”
And so it went.
Like I said, 19 years at a vet’s office meant she was good at animal sounds. She could whistle and purr and growl and bark. Her barking sounded just like a terrier— it was impressive.
She could talk. Not much, but she could.
If you’ve ever seen The Shining, her voice sounded just like the kid’s “redrum” voice— gravelly and weird and unnerving.
Lucy would only talk when no one was in the room.
At night, she would wait until the lights were off, then she’d start, quietly at first but growing louder:
“I’m right here I’m right here I’m right here what do you want.”
In that creepy redrum voice.
The first time it happened, my mom came sprinting into the room and flicking on all the lights.
Just to see that stupid, smug bird face.
“Woof.”
“Lucy, I hate you.”
“Meow.”
“Good night, Lucy.”
“I’m right—”
“GO TO BED.”
And so it went.
It was terrifying the first few times.
After awhile, it was:
“I’m right here.”
“Yep. We see you, Lucy.”
“I’m right here.”
“Gotcha. Lucy— right there. Got it.”
“I’m ri—”
“YEP.”
What a bird. We ended up adopting her out to a local animal enthusiast, but our time with her was something else.
Never a dull moment.
Read other answers by Jordan Yates on Quora:
- Why do some people like cats more than dogs?
- What is your cat’s name?
- What odd thing does your pet eat?
from Quora http://ift.tt/2ixDekA
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