The Never-Ending Ramblings...

Sweetie and Aubry

While cleaning the birdcages this morning Aubry popped into my head. He loves the birds, especially Sweetie, and I could hear him as though he stood right beside me, as my yellow-gloved hand scrubbed the inside of Sweetie’s cage, with an old rag, doused in some cleaning agent.

“Aunt Robbie,” he says. He has always called me Aunt Robbie. The words giving me an emotional hug. He is the only person on Earth to call me such.

“Does Sweetie drive a car?” He was four when he asked me this question. I smiled and was immediately reminded when Autumn thought our Doberman, Nick could drive a car. During Christmas, we used to buy presents for the kids, wrapping them and addressing them FROM the pets we had at the time. Autumn wanted to know exactly how Nick went to go pick our her presents. ‘Does he put his paws on the steering wheel? She had asked me, while holding her arms up like she was driving the car herself.

“No. Aubry.” I say, bringing myself back to the present. (In reality, this ‘present is really a year ago. But as it were that is what happened. Am I making any sense?)

Then, my mind jumped to this past Christmas. I asked Sweetie, who is a getting better everyday talker, “Do you miss Aubry?” This past December, Auby wanted Sweetie to go everywhere with him. So we let the bird out while he ate, had him perched on a chair next to Aubry. We would decide on a special snack for Sweetie and the two of them would eat their food. Often times, it was how Renee was able to bribe Aubry into eating his vegetables. Renee took pictures of this. I need to ask her to mail me one.

Sweetie didn’t answer me. He usually only answers questions or commands with a ‘no’. If he doesn’t want to do them. Like if I reach my hand inside and say “Step up.” Which means, do you want to come out of your cage? He’ll gently bite my finger and say, “No.” if he doesn’t wan to. Or, step up on me if he does.

When I am finished cleaning his cage I say to him, “Step up.” He does. I take him to the kitchen and place him on the chair where he ate with Aubry. I chat with him in low cooing tones. His eyes dart around the room. He shifts his balance from foot to foot. He is happy.

When its time for me to move on. I reach my hand over to his chest. Step up” I say again. I’ve got to get back to birdcage scrubbing. “No.” He says. And nips my finger.

I don't want to finish cleaning. Whose feathers can I nip?