A problem with most pets is you outlive them. Dogs, cats, etc.

The problem with parrots is if you don’t plan right, they outlive you.

When I was little, like 9 years old, my main dream was to have parrots. I pushed my father to get them, and he did. And I took great care of them for a decade. I kept their cages open so they could go inside or outside as they pleased. I pet them, played with them, etc.

And then I went to college. My father got a new girlfriend, and they got a cat, which they named fucking Paris Hilton (girlfriend’s idea).

And it was a Bengal cat. An aggressive, energetic type. Paris was actually really cool on her own, but not with the parrots. You have to be careful with cats and parrots standing atop open cages. The parrots are happy to say hi and the cat is happy to play a predator. Can’t have that.

So my father started to lock the parrots in their cages. The macaw became noticeable unhappy first. The amazon was stoic for longer. But I was like “I’m in college, and then I’m going to live in a small apartment, and they can’t stay here or anywhere.”

So I did a ton of research and found them new homes that had the expertise to take care of them. Parrots are often snappy toward people they don’t know, and both of these parrots would bite people other than me. So they needed a lot of resocialization.

I loved them so much, but I would be so careful to advise parrots as pets unless one was *really* equipped to have them.

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