The Thirty-Third Night

 

It might be the lack of human company in my life, but I’m very fond of animals.

I have fish, birds both inside and outside the house, two dogs, and the occasional neighborhood cat.

The indoor birds include a pair of budgerigars, a pair of lovebirds, and Georges, the parrot who often sings along with me. I also keep canaries and a few others in cages.

As you might imagine, the house is never quiet—with so many parrots around—and sometimes Nick gets annoyed with the endless chirp-chirp. That said, he does get a kick out of Georges, who refuses to go near him, let alone imitate him.

I always laugh at Nick’s frustrated attempts to befriend Georges.

"Such a rude little creature!" my friend complains after the bird turns down his cookie.

"That’s parrots for you," I say. "Want to know something? When I die, he’ll just go to someone else. And if his next owner is a woman, he’ll probably reject her too—just like he does you."

"Rude little creature!" Nick repeats.

"But you like him?"

"I do. He cracks me up."

"Maybe one day he’ll end up living with you."

"No way! I couldn’t deal with that kind of snobbery every day."

Georges lived in an open cage hung on the wall. I offered him my arm, which he accepted, and I gently scratched his green head.

"Would you go live with Nick, Georges? Be nice to him?"

But he answered me in parrot-speak, and I didn’t understand a word.

Later, while we were playing our weekly game of backgammon, Nick asked me:

"So how’d you end up with so many animals in your house?"

"A bit of planning, and a bit of passion. When I decided to move to the island, the plan was to buy a house that could be somewhat self-sustaining—at least food-wise. It needed a yard where I could grow a garden, plant a few fruit trees, and keep animals for meat and eggs. They also help with pest control—especially spiders."

"You don’t like spiders?"

"I’m terrified of them! That’s where the chickens and geese come in. The geese have the added benefit of being excellent guards. They start honking at the slightest thing."

"That’s actually something that worries me, you know? You’re out here alone, and at night, this place is pretty exposed—open to the sea. Anyone could just walk in."

"Exactly. That’s why there’s the Dog."

Nick laughed.

"That’s the best name you could come up with?"

"He’s never complained about being called Dog—my loyal guard dog!"

"He doesn’t come inside, does he?"

"No. The outdoor animals aren’t pets. I give them food, shelter, safety—even some fun—and in return, they give me food and protection. If I give the right command, Dog will jump at your throat and won’t let go until I say so. He could even kill you, if I told him to."

"Jeez, man. You’ve got kind of a dark side, huh?"

"As you can see, I live alone in a house that’s not exactly secure. Every Catholic hopes for the goodness in others, but never forgets that there’s evil in the world—and some people embrace it. Catholics are peaceful, not pacifists."

"I thought there was, like, a ‘Thou shalt not kill’ thing?"

"There is. But it doesn’t mean you can’t defend yourself—or an innocent person being unjustly attacked. The commandment is about not attacking or killing out of malice. Or do you really think that if I saw someone trying to hurt you unfairly, I wouldn’t defend you? I would kill or die for you if it came to that."

"You’d do that for me?"

"Maybe," I said, with a half-smile.