Lindy was a double, yellow-headed, Panama parrot. He was given to my mother by her father around the time Lindbergh made his historic flight. So, of course, she named him Lindy. Lindy was well established in the family before my arrival. However, since parrots live almost as long as humans, he was a teenager and still pretty active when I was born.
When I started writing my Witherston Murder Mystery series—Downstream, Fairfield’s Auction, and Dam Witherston—I could use two hands to type. Now I am proceeding more slowly, at least during daylight hours, because Cosmo, my very talkative African Grey Parrot, wants to cuddle on my lap. If I don’t keep caressing her with my left hand she reminds me: “Cosmo wanna cuddle.” So I have learned to type with my right hand.
Almost licensed animal behaviorist Pru Marlowe has mostly adjusted to her ability of being able to sense animals' emotions. Although she fled the big city life of Manhattan and all of its noisy voices for Massachusetts, she has since become able to view her gift as an asset to her profession of training and modifying pet behavior (even if their persons are usually the actual culprits). Her latest client has hired her to retrain Randolph Jones, a foul-mouthed parrot whose owner just passed away in the LiveWell retirement complex.
I once heard a Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show announcer say, as the Scotties pranced proudly into the show ring, “The Scottish terrier is the only breed of dog that knows he is smarter than his master.” I found out why. My Scottish terrier therapy dog, McDuff, proved it time after time with his off-the-chart intelligence and you-won’t- believe stubbornness that outsmarted and frustrated me to tears.
