I was totally stumped for a post for this Theme Thursday when, all of a sudden, I heard a familiar cry from across the canal. Well, maybe more like a screech, or the sound a cat makes when you step on its tail. You see, there is a very loud and noisy parrot that lives across the waterway. I concede that this post isn't particularly imaginative on this week's theme, or particularly humourous for that matter, but it sort of involves the colour of blue.
Not far away lived some friends who trained and bred dogs and had a small kennel on their property. One summer, they were invited to an all-day wedding affair that was quite a distance away. Since they probably wouldn't get home until later that evening, I volunteered to look in on the dogs.
Their kennel consisted of some six or seven mastiffs - one dog was always left inside the house as a guard. They also had a blue and gold macaw who's name was Boomer. Boomer was very loud when he squawked and screeched and could be very annoying when he was hungry or wanting attention. Cheryl and David (not their real names) got Boomer a few years earlier. Macaws are very intelligent birds and can be taught to speak. Boomer, on rare occasions, would say a word or two, but usually when no visitors were around.I should mention here that this kennel was the ultimate alarm system: anyone coming up the driveway would be announced by continuous barking until David came out and hollered at them to be quiet.
So, on this hot summer day, I arrived at around 3 p.m. All the windows in the house were open to vent the heat. The dogs, as expected, were barking like mad and it was extremely loud. I had to shout as best as I could to be recognized as a friend. They were having none of it. When I started towards the kennel so they could see me, I heard David's voice coming from the house, yelling his usual command at the canines.
David and Cheryl were supposed to leave early this morning, I thought to myself. "David, are you still here? No response. "Hello? Did you forget something?", I called as I approached the house; the dogs still barking wildly. Just before I reached the door, David's voice again bellowed in a more succinct manner, "Shut - the - fuck - up!" It got eerily quieter. I'd swear on a stack of bibles that it was David's voice that I had heard, but after I searched the house and was satisfied that no one was there, it finally dawned on me that the voice could only have originated from one source: Boomer. From that day on, I never heard Boomer speak a single word other than gobbledigook. I'm sure he was laughing at me.
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This is a Theme Thursday post - check out the others!
