You may recall that earlier today I rescued a finch from a fatal release into the wild.
The Saga of "That Lucky Little Shit", aka "Lucky", aka Finchy-Face is now continued.
I head my fuzzybutt down to Petco to get finch supplies...and am faced with a Petco that doesn't sell finches, doesn't know much about finches, and doesn't really have finch supplies. I am thus forwarded to another Petco a few towns over.
*grumble grumble grumble*
At least at this second Petco the person who helps me breeds finches and is able to help me pull together a "finch care package".
Until we got to the cage.
Now, the thing about finches is that they are leeeeeeeetle birds who — unlike birds in the parrot family like my beloved George the Amazing Lovebird — only fly around. They don't play with toys. They don't play with people. They don't help you do chores by sitting on your shoulder and chirping "directions" loudly in your ear.
Finches just fly around in their cage and make peeping sounds.
In short, not a bird after my own heart.
But even though they are leeeeeeeetle birds, they need huuuuuuuuuge cages. Because of the aforementioned "all they do is fly around and make peeping noises" part of the program.
Herein is the problem:
1) My apartment is barely big enough for this cage.
2) If I set up the cage, there's only one place to put it: George's spot.
Yeaaaaaahhhhh...not going to happen.
George has been my buddy for 12 years.
"That Lucky Little Shit", aka "Lucky", aka Finchy-Face would already be hawk chow (we have a lot of hawks) if I hadn't happened along.
Upon seeing the size of the cage, I flashed my most helpless grin at the salesperson and said, "You want a bird?"
Unfortunately, she didn't breed zebra finches and wasn't fond of them as a species. However, she had names of people who might take him.
So, I managed to get the name of a finch breeder who might be interested and the name of a local, new-to-the-area avian vet.
I've been informed that I can keep "That Lucky Little Shit", aka "Lucky", aka Finchy-Face in George's travel cage for a week or two without stressing him out too much, and I can return the massive finch cage as long as I don't open the box.
So, for the next week I'm going to make a couple of calls and have the 'rents make a couple of calls. Hopefully, I'll be able to set up the bird in a new home and spare George the Birdy Attack of seeing a cage bigger than his evict him from his spot.
In any case, "That Lucky Little Shit", aka "Lucky", aka Finchy-Face now has proper dishes for water and actual finch food, a little nest to sleep in, and a shred toy.
And George now has an Evil Menace he can glare at until it goes away.
Wish me luck on finding a home for the finch. Something tells me I'm going to need it, because the long-term solution is not staying with me.
fucking people letting loose their fucking pets like it's fucking nothing I need to fucking smack someone
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