Appears online in The Pink Chameleon
I’d seen the two of them together many times, but I could never remember the human’s name.
“Hi, Sugarfoot,” I said to the bird on the woman’s shoulder. “Hi, . . . I’m sorry I forgot your name.” I smiled apologetically.
“You remembered Sugarfoot, though,” she commented, smiling back with warm amusement. “Everyone remembers Sugarfoot. I’m Ann.”
“What kind of a bird is Sugarfoot?” I asked.
“I don’t know if she’s a male or a female but I call her ‘she’,” Ann explained. “She’s a cockatiel. A cockatoo looks the same but it’s bigger.”
“Are you ever afraid she might fly off?”
“No. One time she flew back into the elevator after I got off but she flew right back out before the door could close and took her place on my shoulder. I think she was scared.”
I thought: Ann’s shoulder is Sugarfoot’s home.
Now I greet both of them by name.
