It is Sunday morning. I wake up, still tired and bleary eyed. For once, my husband has gotten up before me and is watching something sport oriented in the living room. I can hear the murmurings of the TV. I stare up at the ceiling and sigh. I can feel their eyes staring at me, even though the door is shut. I know their ears are cocked, waiting for the slightest sound of movement from me so they can pounce. “They” are my two dogs, two cockatiels and Woody, the Meyer’s parrot. My husband knows I rarely cook, so he’s not expecting anything, and he is completely oblivious to the hungry whines and calls of our feathered and furred family members. This is why I know they are out there, and I know I can no longer sleep. I get out of bed, open the bedroom door and shuffle out to the kitchen, passing my husband as I walk through the living room. I glare at him. He doesn’t notice as he continues to watch the sports game.
The rest of them notice. The `tiels call from the back room. Tampa, the puppy, jumps and spins all around me. Sprey, the older dog, sits on her dog bed and stares at me with ears perked. Woody sees me and goes to his food dish, assuming the position. I don’t speak but go directly to the stove and begin making scrambled eggs for Woody and NattyBird. (Carlisle won’t eat them.)
Tampa sits by his food dish and stares at me. In between cracking and mixing, I give the dogs a little bit of dog food and they start munching away. It then occurs to me that my husband might want some eggs. I ask him and he does. I prepare three plates, two mini and one bigger. I peel an apple and cut it into birdy-sized and husband-friendly pieces. I place eggs and apple pieces on plates and serve everyone. Then, I go back to the bedroom and get back in bed. I have served my purpose.