Max-sleeping on the warm keyboard
I like animals as much as the next person does . . . as long as they belong to someone else. However, I was fond of my brother’s parakeet, Max. You couldn’t help but love a bird that said, “Here, kitty, kitty, kitty,” with more clarity than a three-year-old human.
Today, Max flew out an open window.
GOD HELP ME, but after hearing the news . . . all I could picture was this
and then the twisted part of me saw . . .
Don’t judge me. You were thinking it, too.