It’s official:  the parrot is a psychopath.

I went with BJ to physical therapy this afternoon, and we decided to indulge in a little shopping while we were out.  First, it was off to the bakery outlet store for some bread, then to WalMart for a few other grocery items.  And while we were at the mall, we decided to stick our heads into the pet store, just to see what supplies might be available for the bird.

The store is in the midst of a huge cage sale.  Some of these things are like birdie versions of luxury condo hotel suites; others are made more cheaply than cardboard boxes.  The weird part is that there wasn’t all that much difference in the prices!

We decided not to spend anywhere near that much money, but we did come home with a plastic dish that bolts onto the side of the cage for Astro to use as a bathtub.  He’s been happily making due with a recycled deli container, but he wants to chew the top of it, and I’m afraid he’ll choke on the pieces.  This dish is rated for much larger birds, so we figured it would be a good choice.  Besides, since it’s up off the floor, he can root under it, one of his favorite tricks with his food and water dishes.

To make a long story short, he had a fit.  The little darling does not adjust well to change, especially when it comes to his cage decor.  He ruffled his feathers, squawked his distress call, bit my finger and drew blood, and growled at BJ, who was smart enough not to go within reach of him.

The dish is firmly attached to the cage bars, filled with water.  In a few day’s he’ll get used to it.  But in the meantime, he’s one little POed fella.   And my finger hurts.  Again.