Anywhoo, back to Chook. Who was originally named Mojo, but Chook suited him better and he sorta kinda answers to it.  The thing about Chook is this: He is demented. Utterly and totally off his trolley. Nuts. Adorable, though.

The video there shows Chook’s one party trick – stick control. This brings us to…

Rule #1: Do not touch, handle or otherwise interfere with the seed stick.
Seriously man, it’s not worth it. For one, you will be abused by a tiny feathered ball of rage. He will be FURIOUS, hang on to the stick and either bite you or headbutt you (when he’s so cross he forgets how to bite).  The stick belongs to him, you may not have it.

Rule #2: Do not allow an empty seed stick to be empty.
I’m pretty mean in that I wait till he’s eaten ALL the seed before I replace the stick. This means that some mornings when I take the cover off his cage, I am greeted with a little cranky ball of fluff who grabs the empty stick and shakes it at me with recrimination in his little pink eyes. If a stick is not forthcoming, he will rage. This brings us to …

Rule #3: Do not laugh at tiny adorable rage.
In his head, Chook is the size of a horse and therefore his rage is neither funny or cute. You may cower suitably, but do not giggle.

Rule #4: Gifts and bribes are acceptable at all times.
Grass is always welcome, you may peg it to the perch. Thank you now bugger off.

Rule #5: Just because he’s making kissy face at you while you’re outside the cage doesn’t mean he wants to be your best friend.
Thankfully budgie bites are not painful, but while he loves everyone who passes by while they’re outside the cage, the minute they invade his space he becomes a whirling dervish of rage and biting. See Rule #3.

Usually, despite his addiction to seed sticks (he does also have ordinary seed to nom, which he enjoys) he will allow the boring empty one to be taken away and replaced with a nice new full one. As of yesterday however, he has decided all sticks must remain his. This is handy in that when I let him out for a flap around I can catch him easily by waving the empty stick at him. He’s very sweet and kissy to me most of the time.

As a note, I once went to a supermarket to get some seed sticks, and they didn’t have the right kind in stock, so I had to take a FORTY MINUTE detour on the way home to get him some. Don’t tell me I don’t spoil my animals, coz I do.

First, Stitch loves car rides. Loves them. So exciting. Could be going anywhere, get to see so much stuff and oh lord oh lord oh lord another dog! LOOK LOOK ANOTHER DOG! Noddy, on the other hand, tends to look like he’s just been thrashed with a stick and is about to get a second round. He is, admittedly, better than he was as a younger dog, when he would have to be manhandled into the car. He leaps in quite happily now, but does spend most of the trip trying to escape out of the rear window.  Stitch spends the trip with his head between the two front seats, crying with excitement and trying to look at everything at once, while thwacking Noddy on the head with his wagging tail.

Once at the vet clinic, they are again quite marked in their personalities. They both trot quite happily up to the door, but Noddy digs his fuzzy little feet in on the doorstep and refuses to go any further. Stitch bounds in, ready for love and attention from the nurses. The smells of other dogs drive him into a high pitched whine of thrill. He can’t possibly sit, can’t sit, nope can’t sit, too excited, more pats.  Noddy, having been dragged into the waiting room, then has to be lifted onto the scale because frankly this is all too scary and he tends to lose the use of his legs.

Once in the examination room (they go in together), Stitch is lifted onto the table and spends a very happy few minutes pretty much ignoring the vet while he peers out the window. Noddy spends this time with his paws on the table to see what’s being done to Stitch, or else hiding behind Mamas legs, or my bag, or under the table, or under the vet. Not fussed really, hiding is good. Stitch is usually all good for the ear, teeth and eye check, but once the belly squeezing and temperature readings start he gets a bit less enthused about the whole experience and is very ready to jump down once the exam is over. He then waits by the door with his lead in his mouth, crying. Ready to go now please.

Noddy becomes a dead weight with awkward legs when lifted onto the table, and then tends to go for the falling down approach to problem management.  At every chance he tries to make a jump for the floor, only to be thwarted by people who seem to be able to read his mind, and keep a grip on his harness.

At the end of the exam, Nodders is more than glad to accept a handful of liver treats in compensation for his pain and suffering. Stitch tends to refuse these, preferring an ear rub or chest scratch.  Noddy also likes to try and get the lid off the liver treats jar while his health is chatted about. Crafty little sod.

With Stitch declared in fine fettle and Noddy on a diet (again), we leave the vets in a tangle of leads and legs and chaos. The way home is much the same, with Stitch staring out of the windscreen and crying, and Noddy trying to crawl out the back window.  Such little nutters my boys.

(PS. Veterinarian is pronounced “Vet’nry” (vet nn ree) in this house, as a nod to James Herroit)