Kirby and my housework

When you have a parrot, you're never alone.

Kirby and my housework

I vacuum! Kirby, steadfast on my shoulder, leaning into the fray of dirt, dust, and tossed parrot refusals. We move forward with purpose and determination!

Kirby, a general riding high and forthright upon my shoulder as a General should upon his steed!

"HeeYA!" Kirby spurs me on to the attack. He needs a sword or something. General Kirby crying above the fray of vacuum motor and competing parrots screaming.

"HeeYA!" He raises his beak high into the air and then back to my ear to scream, "TURN RIGHT!"

We advance. Into the bird room. I have to bend over to reach under the table. No matter. General Kirby throws himself half off the saddle of my shoulder to ride forward and upside down, advancing his cause. "HeeYA!!" His spurs of talons dig into my shirt. He roars orders of attack. General Kirby. Fearless and ferocious.

We advance! "HeeYA!" His voice echos over the battlefield, over the voices competing, over the laboring complaint of a shop vac motor laboring. "ADVANCE I say!"

Angus with fear and trepidation in his eyes flees the battlefield for the front doormat. It's quieter. Safer. He wants none of General Kirby's wrath or battle.

"HeeYA!" We advance to the line from which we came. The battle won! The vacuum full.

I am but a horse to a parrot.

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