A Day in the Life of Froley

He wakes up to the sound of my voice saying, “Good morning, Froley!” If he has gotten a good night’s sleep, he’ll try garbling out human words, such as “Pretty bird” or “Froley is a pretty bird.” If he’s not in the mood for speaking but he’s still happy to be woken up, he’ll start chittering gleefully. If he woke up on the wrong side of the perch, he’ll hiss at me as I remove his polar bear bedtime blanket from his bedtime cage. No matter his initial reaction, he warms up to the idea of greeting the day fairly quickly.

I carry Froley’s bedtime cage to the living room, where his big cage is located. I place it next to the big cage and connect the two with a little wooden ladder so that Froley has a kind of duplex available to him.

Before he celebrates having out-time, I have to ensure he does his Morning Poop inside one of his cages. I don’t care which cage he poops in as long as he’s in a cage. Froley’s morning poops are massive affairs. He doesn’t poop in his sleep, so I guess it all builds up in the night.

I might have to encourage Froley to poop. I brightly say, “Poop, Froley-bird, poop!” Sometimes he takes forever. On the days when I have to go somewhere in the morning, I swear, he does this on purpose. Once he has pooped, I always praise him for doing such a good job.

Now it’s free-roam time.

Froley decides where he wants to hang out, whether it is atop the perennial Christmas tree in our living room, on the couch (which has a rainbow towel on one of the armrests specifically for Froley to hang out on), on my office chair, or within his duplex. He’ll explore whatever area he’s in, but he makes sure to keep me in his line of sight. If I leave the room, he shrieks for a bit. I have to whistle back to him in order to let him know I’m still alive and everything is okay.

Froley on Christmas Tree

If whatever I’m having for breakfast is safe for Froley to consume, he’ll perch on my plate and share my morning meal. If I’m eating something no bird should ever eat, I have to confine him to his cage. He’ll pace back and forth by his cage’s door, outraged that he’s not partaking. He has no regard for his safety when it comes to food.

The hours blend together for Froley after breakfast (or at least I assume they do). He alternates between eating his pellets, waddling on the carpet, or trying to get a hand-job from me.

When I’ve done some work and midday is approaching, Froley accompanies me to the shower. He fluffs up and gets super comfortable on the bar that holds the shower curtain. If I decide he needs a bath, I’ll offer him a finger and bring him down to the floor of the tub with the shower-head on. He’ll roll around in the water if he agrees that he needs a bath. (If he doesn’t think he’s up for being hygienic, Froley will sit in a puddle with his eyes closed, ignoring me.)

Froley has to go back to his big cage after that because showers always make his poops loose. This is the perfect time for him to go to his favorite perch and take a nap.

Afternoons are pleasantly slow for Froley. After his necessary post-shower confinement is up, he mostly stays near his cage anyway. He naps on the roof of his cage, or he nibbles at the bricks of the chimney where his cages are at.

Froley on Big Cage

If he’s feeling affectionate, Froley will fly to my shoulder and fluff up there. He might want to cuddle, so he’ll nip my ears until I scratch his head-feathers. Or he might just want to be next to me, warming his feet up.

As the evening progresses, Froley’s energy levels go back up. He wants to be everywhere I’m at, and he’s even more insistent that he get head-scratches. He rarely plays with his toys, but if he’s going to, now is the time of day when he will. Froley’s favorite afternoon spot is my office chair. I’ve placed a little towel there to catch his poop, but he seems to poop everywhere but the towel.

I try to play my video games near dark, and if Froley wants attention, he’ll flap his way onto the controller in my hands and try nipping at the sticks and buttons. Once, when I left my controller unattended and my game un-paused, Froley killed my character by having him walk off a cliff.

Froley has a bedtime that he keeps to regularly. A well-slept bird is a happy bird, I always say (not really). Though when Froley knows I’m putting him to bed, he throws such a fuss. You would think from the sorrowful chirps he makes that I’m abandoning him for life.

On special nights, I carry Froley’s bedtime cage into my own bedroom instead of into the computer room where he normally sleeps. I’ll place his cage right next to my bed, cover him with his polar bear blanket, and then slip into bed myself later on. The next morning, Froley gets to wake up right next to me.

On those mornings, I’ll take him out of the cage before either of us are ready to greet the day and have him sleep a little bit more on my shoulder. I nab a few extra Z’s too. I can’t say for sure, but I think Froley lives for those mornings.

4 thoughts on “A Day in the Life of Froley”

      1. Floodgate! Love that mission. He was probably enacting revenge against you for what he perceives as your morning poop-mandated dictatorship. Or he’s secretly an agent of the Gravemind. You never know…

        Liked by 1 person

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