Simon says: ‘Do everything I say, Mom!‘

I got hit with a sailing Cheerio the other day.

It came flying through the bars of Simon’s cage while I, still pajama-clad and rubbing the sleep from my eyes, finished replacing the little Quaker Parakeet’s food and water bowls for his morning meal.

“Awe, come on,” I said, looking at the angry little bird staring me down through tiny brown eyes. “Get over it.”

Simon squawked a long protest, which I took to mean “no,” and overturned his bowl, spilling his favorite breakfast cereal across his table.

He’s been angry since my return from vacation — a trip that Simon wasn’t invited on. He stayed home in his room under the care of our roommate, Catherine.

The first signs of Simon’s wrath came in the form of squawks that filtered through the walls of our apartment as I pulled into the driveway.

This could have gone in one of two ways:

—Fearing the worst, Simon is grateful for my return and sits contently on my knee making a soft clicking noise with his beak; or
—Theorizing that I spent the week at Grandma’s eating all his yum-yums, Simon is overcome by a rage befitting a Greek god and spends about a week finding new methods of retaliation.

It’s about 50-50. As I lugged the suitcase upstairs, I was hoping for the former but was resigned to the latter, as the cacophony only grew in frequency and pitch.

Simon would tell you that he had been terribly neglected and that he was forced to wile away his time in solitude plotting ways to disable the padlocks on his cage doors. However, sources say there were peek-a-boo games and treats of strawberries and McDonald’s hash browns. Catherine and our friend Cortney ate meals in the room with him and watched television with the little birdie.

He may not have been let out of his cage, but he certainly wasn’t left alone.

Simon didn’t save his anger solely for me. The piles of leather gloves sitting in the floor near his cage speak volumes about how he treated Catherine.

During one phone call, Catherine told me Simon was doing well, but when asked if he was behaving, she answered in a swift, incredulous tone that he was, in fact, not.

The two found a way to work together though, and I think the seeds of a bond are starting to form.

Before I got home from work one evening, Catherine shared some of her peach with Simon.

Then, a few days after my return and while Simon was busy pretending I didn’t exist, Catherine knocked on the door of his room.

She asked if he would like some chicken and at the sound of her voice, he fluttered to the door and waited.

It’s good to know that Simon is associating with someone in the house. Perhaps there is hope for a relationship between these two yet.

At least, as long as hash browns are part of the deal.