Exhausting

It is early in the morning.
I am sitting at my desk and sobbing.

My coffee is on the floor and the dog is not speaking to me, because quite a bit of it landed on her.

Here's what happened:

Every morning, I get up, feed the dog and make coffee. While the coffee is brewing, I come into my office and wake the birds up.

Please don't misunderstand. The birds are already awake, I just come in and take the covers from their cages and start our morning rituals.

Noodle gets cuddles and an early cheerio or safflower seed. If I neglect this part of the routine, she sits in her cage and screams. A scream from a parrotlet is something like the most high-pitched tweeting you can imagine at a surprising volume from such a tiny animal.

Charlie is still getting used to life in his big, new cage:

This was about an hour after we'd set it up.
He has a LOT more toys than that.
Rotten, he is.

so every morning is like a surprise to him, I think. I'll uncover him and he cowers, even while giving my his morning greetings. It's bizarre. He's not much for cuddling, but he gets a cheerio or seed, too.

I go in and get my coffee, put together the birds' breakfasts and come back. Noodle has her breakfast in her cage. Charlie's cage has a 'drawbridge' door in the front that opens up over my desk and he has breakfast right here next to my laptop.

Normally, he eats and then tries to throw the bowl on the floor. (this is why he always has to have stainless steel bowls) Once he starts that, I know he's done and Act II of the morning begins.

This is when he starts either a.) chewing on anything he can or b.) he sits quietly on my arm and begs for coffee.

A note here: coffee is terrible for parrots. It can conceivably kill them, but Charlie's previous keepers gave him some every morning, and he can not understand why that routine cannot be continued.

Today is an A day. He wanders around and tries to chew on the mouse pad  the camera cords, the desk lamp and a paper clip from some insurance forms I had sitting out. The entire right side of my desk is devoid of anything that is expensive, non-replaceable or dangerous. Charlie will start trying to chew something and then look to me, because he knows what comes next:

"No, Charlie"
"Stop, Charlie"
"Dammit, Charlie"
"For fuck's sake, Charlie!"

All in a calm, sometimes deadpan voice. It's just the routine. Every day is the same thing. Nothing really gets chewed, he just likes that I talk to him, so he 'beaks' everything in sight and bangs on the desk to make noise.

Please do not think for a moment that I don't talk to the animals in a normal way, as well. You have to remember that I don't have anyone else to talk to during the day, so the animals are it. I talk to them about breakfast, about lunch, about stupid articles on Reddit. They hear about whatever shenanigans my family may be up to and they listen to me give step-by-step instructions when I'm doodling or making things. I just didn't want you to think Charlie was so desperate for attention that he acts inappropriately. This is just what we do.

At any rate, this morning was no different. He had his oatmeal and sprouted seed breakfast, begged for some coffee and then started the 'let's chew shit' part. Out of nowhere, he leaned over and bit the crap out of my finger. I realize there was no malice in it, he wasn't angry or threatened, my hand was just sitting there and was bite-able.

Unfortunately, it scared the shit out of me. I mean, it hurt like a mad bastard, too, but mostly it scared me. So, I jumped and screamed. When I jumped, I knocked my coffee cup off the desk and onto the dog. She yelped and ran off. Charlie just stood there and shook with huge eyes  and real fear.

I just sobbed.

Keeping an animal like Charlie is exciting. It's awesome and wonderful and I wouldn't have it any other way. It's also exhausting. Things like this happen and not only do I now have a bloody finger, but I know that because of my reaction, later today, when I try to get him out of his cage for training, he won't want to come. Because I was startled and made noise, I've gone back at least three steps from where we were when the morning started. I'm going to have to rebuild  his confidence in me and convince him that I'm not a danger and that I'm not going to hurt him. Every time I clean his cage or my office or reach in to change out his food dish is another time that he gets scared and another time I'm going to have to make up for.

I can do it, of course, but it is so tiring. Mentally and physically. I just want to be able to tell him, "look, buddy, I'm not going to hurt you. I've never harmed you, and I never intend to, so you're going to have to get over this shit." Unfortunately, the only way to convey this to an animal that talks but doesn't understand anything is patience and repetition.

And here I thought I was done raising a surly toddler.

I just wanted to complain a little.
I'm done now.

I should get the mop and get the coffee off the floor.
And then off the dog.

Le sigh.