Baltimore (part two)...a dog, another dog and a bird

Well, I am continuing on with my memories of living in Baltimore. If you read the last blog, then you know that I have absolutely no memories of going to school even though I went to Dulaney Valley High School for both my 10th and 11th grade years. I don't remember any friends that I might have played with and I don't really remember a lot about our time there. I do have strong memories of the following.

Pharaoh, my sister and my mom

Like all families, we had pets. The first pet I remember was a Basset Hound named Pharaoh. We had Pharaoh in Wilmington. He was an indoor/outdoor type of dog. I don't remember playing with him much. I think he was really my dad's dog. What I do remember was that dog really smelled and slobbered all over the place. I don't think that is so unusual because I think the smell and slobbering comes with the breed. Anyway, I remember Pharaoh being a good dog that never bothered anybody. My parents would let him out to do is business and he usually came back home in a very short time. Pharaoh died while we were in Wilmington and I remember that my dad said that he was poisoned by a neighbor (Pharaoh was probably using this neighbor's yard to poop). I don't remember the exact time that he died but I do remember my dad being really upset. I don't remember how my mom felt one way or the other.

George

After Pharaoh, we got a miniature French Poodle as a pet. His name was George.  I can't remember if we got him in Wilmington or Baltimore but he turned out to be a great dog. I think my mom liked him a whole lot more than Pharaoh mainly because the dog didn't smell or slobber. I do remember that George barked a lot. Anytime anyone would ring the doorbell, that dog would go into hysterics. As George got older (in San Antonio), not only would he bark at guests at our front door...he would always greet them by peeing out in the open somewhere. I think that was his way of marking his territory. I also remember that George always smelled good. I think that after our first dog, my mom would spray her perfume all over him...and why not, he was a French Poodle!! George eventually died in Oklahoma City. I don't really remember when.

I have to mention one more pet we had while we were in Baltimore. Most families have dogs and cats but not many families have birds. Leave it to my dad to come up with something unusual. One day he brought home a Myna bird. I am going to refer to a Wikipedia description of what a Myna bird is and why not every family on the block has one. I think that was the appeal to my dad.

Henry....Dirty Bird

The myna is a bird of the starling family. This is a group of passerine birds which occur naturally only in southern and eastern Asia. Several species have been introduced to areas like North America, Australia, South Africa and New Zealand, especially the Common Myna which is often regarded as an invasive species.
Mynas are not a natural group; instead, the term myna is used for any starling in India and surrounding areas, regardless of their relationships. This range was colonized twice during the evolution of starlings, first by rather ancestral starlings related to the Coleto and Aplonis lineages, and millions of years later by birds related to the Common Starling and Wattled Starling's ancestors. These two groups of mynas can be distinguished in the more terrestrial adaptions of the latter, which usually also have less glossy plumage except on the heads and longer tails. The Bali Myna which is nearly extinct in the wild is highly distinctive.
Some mynas are considered talking birds, for their ability to reproduce sounds, including human speech, when in captivity.

Read that last line again...."some mynas are considered TALKING BIRDS.....YES, a f**king TALKING bird. Was my dad nuts! Well, he didn't think so. This bird cost a fortune and I'm sure that my mom expressed her feelings about this bird the first chance she got. My guess is that my mom probably withheld some favors over this bird, giving my dad more time to train it. It was noisy, messy, pooped everywhere and was able to throw it's birdseed out of the cage and all over the floor. BUT IT COULD TALK!!! This bird was going to be the life of all my dad's future parties!!

OK, now we have this bird that has the ability to talk....all my dad needed to do was spend time teaching the bird words. Well, you can see where this is headed. First, my dad named this bird HENRY...yes, Henry. Don't ask me why...we have no idea. The first thing the bird learned was his name...his first sentence was "Henry is a dirty bird"...so when you walked into the room...the first thing you would hear was..."Henry is a dirty bird". Then Henry learned the "wolf whistle" and that bird knew pretty women because it would only whistle at the pretty ones...not really sure how my dad taught that bird NOT to whistle at the ugly ones. I remember thinking at the time that my dad did not have time to help me with my homework but he found plenty of time to teach this bird to talk. I swear, if he could have....he would have taught the bird to smoke and drink too!!

Other things that bird could say were...."shut the front door", "Henry looks like the devil", a variety of dirty words and a few more phrases. Henry was building a huge vocabulary. Henry was very good at picking up words and phrases and one phrase would cause his downfall. My mom would always be calling her dog, George...the Poodle...remember him. Well, my mom called that dog so much, Henry picked up the phrase, "here George", here George" and started repeating it all the time. Henry would start calling out "Here George, Here George" and of course the dog thought it was my mom calling so it would go running into the room where the bird was, looking for my mom but not finding her. This happened over and over and that poor dog was run ragged by that bird calling him all the time.

Well, the inevitable happened. We don't know exactly how it happened  but our guess is that while we were away....Henry, the bird started calling George the dog and the dog finally had its fill of being fooled because when we got home, we found the bird had strangled it's self between the wires on the cage. My guess is that George, the dog, got up on the table where the cage was sitting and literally scared the bird to death. Needless to say, we did NOT replace the bird.