“This is a wander-y one, but it does have a coherent narrative. I’ve been reading a lot of comics this weekend, so pardon the oddly low bar.
Anyone with exotic birds as pets is insane. Or 10.
I had two parakeets when I was 10, which I got because my best friend, who was also 10, got two parakeets.
They died, probably prematurely. I’m not totally sure, but I wasn’t good at taking care of animals, and it stands to reason.
I had a lizard that died in ONE DAY. I had a bunch of fish, they never made it. A “pet” crawdad that died, I think while molting. I say “pet” because, c’mon, it’s not like the thing wanted anything to do with me. I also had a gerbil who jumped into the top of his cage, bumped his head, and while I was hysterically crying my mom had to sort of explain that you don’t really take gerbils to the vet when they have a concussion. You just…they just die.
Having birds is weird because you kind of just know that the life they’re living is not ideal for them. It’s not like a dog where the dog is probably living the best possible life for a domesticated dog. Or a cat. You just know this fuckin’ bird would be better off with any other life, really, other than hanging out with you all the time.”