The Compromise

John has been begging me since we got married to let him get a puppy. Here's the thing. I like puppies. In fact, I really really like puppies. But I don't like the idea of a puppy in a third-floor apartment (no yard, no elevator) with owners who work full-time and would only be there at night. Plus can you imagine taking one out in January down three flights of stairs and waiting while it does its business? And what if it ruined the carpet or something and we lost our deposit?

But John just kept begging. And finally I said that I still didn't want a puppy, but we could get a different kind of pet. So he did a little research, found a breeder, and went and picked out a twelve-week-old handfed baby conure.

(Sorry for the blurry picture. Our apartment didn't get a lot of light this day and she kept moving).

He named her Maya and we like her a lot. She's super playful and crazy, really uncoordinated, pretty much only wants to sit on my head (I don't want her there because birds + hair = no good), and LOVES John. She gets so excited when he comes home and her favorite place to sit is right on his neck behind his head so she can rub her face against him and play with his hair. I try not to get offended by her love for him and toleration of me. On Sunday she was sitting on my shoulder and he was next to me. When he walked away, she jumped down onto the floor and ran after him. Rude.

We took her to the pet store yesterday to pick up some stuff and she was so well behaved. She even let all the little kids pet her. John is hoping to teach her a few tricks. We'll see how that goes.