My husband and I clean Piper’s mansion (we never call it a cage) every Sunday morning. One week, before we got that started, Mister Rain and I were doing a few other things on our To Do lists. My husband was outside, Piper was screaming at the top of his lungs, which are small but mighty, because he wanted his toys set up for the day, something we were not going to do until we had finished tidying up his “room.”
Working at the dining room table and unable to hear myself think, I went and got Piper, along with his barrel of monkeys. Setting the blue toy on the table, I tried to place Piper there as well, but he didn’t want to get down. My production output ceased while I held him close to the barrel so he could play. Taking off its top, tilting the bottom part towards Piper, he didn’t waste any time grabbing a monkey, systematically pulling them all out and tossing every single one to the floor.
When Piper’s daddy came in from his yard work, Piper and I had a lot of ‘splaining to do. Piper kept himself on mute, looking cute and innocent, neither of those traits he got from me.
Sunday mornings are for sleeping in, reading the paper, having a second cup of coffee and staying in your pj’s till noon. In my house, they are for fun with Piper and a barrel of monkeys.
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