The Cat and the Evil Parakeet

Parakeets were in during the winter of 1952, and my little brother David had his heart set on one. On December 24, Mamma, Daddy, and I went to a parakeet breeder, paid $7.95, and brought home the pretty green bird we had reserved. The parakeet was hidden in the back bedroom overnight, but, in the early morning dark of Christmas Day, the softly glowing bubble lights on our tree revealed the birdcage on the living room floor among the other gifts.

At six that morning, Daddy and Der Doc the cat came into the house after milking the cows. Der Doc always supervised as Daddy and the hired man milked. He was rewarded for his efforts with a bowl of fresh milk and a good many compliments from Daddy. Pussycats can tell by your tone of voice that you are complimenting them. They love compliments and believe every one. Therefore, though Der Doc was a rather ugly grey tiger-striped cat, he believed he was good looking. He further believed that he was a superior member of the milking team.

The Superior Milking Team of Daddy and Der Doc stepped through the living room door side by side, heads held high. Der Doc saw and smelled the parakeet in the same instant. Without thinking, he instinctively made a flying leap across the room and onto the cage.

And, without thinking, Daddy instinctively gave Der Doc a boot with his foot that sent him flying.

Our good-looking member of the Superior Milking Team did not believe for a moment that Daddy, who was so very kind, had given him the boot. Clearly we had an evil bird, one who could, from inside its cage, send a cat flying.

Der Doc never again stayed in the same room as the parakeet. This inconvenienced him a good deal, particularly when the parakeet flew into the room while Der Doc was asleep on the living room sofa. He nevertheless stuck by his motto, Better safe than sorry.

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