So this cockatiel walks into a bar… Oh, wait. Wrong Story. This one’s about the cockatiel that landed on Frank’s back when he was fishing my granddaughter’s Barbie doll out of the pool. He flew into a tree (the bird, not Frank), then landed on Frank’s extended pointer finger. We put him in a cardboard box, but it didn’t take long for us to figure out this temporary arrangement was not acceptable to the tenant. It had something to do with all the squawking. We bought a cage, nailed “Found Bird” signs around the neighborhood, put an ad in paper, and waited for a distraught owner to reclaim his or her little feathered friend. One woman who lost her Paulie (male for Pollie) on Mother’s Day drove from Manteca with high hopes, only to have them dashed when the look-alike couldn’t whistle along with her to a tune from the Wizard of Oz. Bottom line: We now have a new family member!

When my father was alive he and his wife had a cockatiel that was allowed out of its cage now and then to fly through their home. They named it Poo Poo. A name that speaks for itself. Since our cockatiel arrived without an ID card under his wing, we have now named him Poo Poo Too. Feeling somewhat intimidated by the woman from Manteca, I am now trying to teach him to whistle “Sunrise, Sunset” from Fiddler on the Roof. Wish me luck.

I, of course, took a picture of Poo Poo Too in his new cage. Not to be left out, our cat is in the picture as well -- sitting like a statue on the floor in front of the cage, looking up wistfully. Our dog stayed on the couch, pouting.

Our granddaughter began to excitedly notify everyone that “Gramma and Grampa have an eagle!” Personally, I think that sounds sort of cool so I haven’t been correcting her. I have a collection of eagles scattered amongst plants in a greenhouse window, so I feel her confusion is justified. Since I am currently teaching her the names of all the plants in our flowerbeds, I will save the bird lesson for later. She’s still struggling with Hibiscus, which comes out sounding more like Shy Biscuits.

With the arrival of Poo Poo Too, Frank and I now have one dog, one cat, one horse, and one bird. No fish. Although my 24-year-old grandson did turn a catfish loose years ago in our pool (which is low-chlorine, due to an ever-active ionizer). He fed the fish dry dog food bits for a few mnths, then the novelty wore off and he returned it to the Delta. I’m not sure, but as the jeep pulled away with the bucket in the backseat, I think I heard barking…