LOVE ZONE

Couples Therapy for the Pet Birds

Talk don’t squawk

“Before we begin, I want to lay down some ground rules. Agreed?”

The birds nod their heads.

“Great. First, no matter how heated it might get in here, there can be no pecking on the other. We use words, breathing, flying around the room, but no beak jabs. Can we agree to that?”

Cheeky fidgets with her wing while Big Boy twitches his head.

“Can I see a clear sign of agreement here?”

Each bird vaguely nods.

“Okay then. Second, if you need to use the restroom, please say so, and we’ll pause our discussion for you to take care of that. Agreed?”

Cheeky looks over at Big Boy, then back to the therapist.

“I can do that,” agrees Cheeky.

“Me too,” says Big Boy.

Cheeky rolls her eyes demonstrably.

“I notice that eye-rolling, Cheeky. Do you want to bring that out in our session in a more productive way?” the therapist asks.

Cheeky sighs and looks directly at her husband.

“Fine. I’d like to know why you insist on pooping on Sharon’s Bentley.”

“Oh, this is about Sharon’s Bentley, is it?”

“Among other things.”

“I find it convenient you aren’t mentioning that you poop on David’s Bentley.”

“I’m Sharon’s bird. I do what she asks of me.”

“And I’m David’s bird. I do what he asks of me.”

“I guess we’re at a stalemate then,” says Cheeky, turning away.

“Can I step in here?” the therapist asks. The birds nod. “Just so I can get some context here, I’m hearing that each of you poops on your owner’s spouse’s car when asked to?”

“Yes,” says Cheeky.

“Without question,” says Big Boy.

“Okay. So, why is this coming between you?” the therapist asks. “Big Boy, it sounds like you take this as a point of pride. Am I hearing that correctly?”

“Oh, you’re hearing that right. I’m David’s little Big Boy. I am his righthand bird, his confidante. I take great pride in my role in his life. When he wants me to stick it to his wife because she told the Beverley Hills Rotary that he sprays when he pees — that means something to me. It says, Big Boy, you matter.”

“So, this is about your sense of worth,” the therapist posits.

Big Boy looks down at his breast.

“Yeah,” he says softly, “I think you hit on something there.”

“Cheeky,” the therapist turns and says, “What part of Big Boy’s duties bother you? He is saying that giving David the satisfaction of bird poop on Sharon’s Bentley helps to define his — what would you call it, Big Boy?”

“I’d call it my manhood, so to speak. When I lay a big one on that woman’s car, I feel worthy and competent,” Big Boy answers with vulnerability in his voice.

“I don’t know,” Cheeky begins, looking up at the ceiling. “I don’t want to get in the way of that for Big Boy, but I’m stuck between competing interests. Sharon depends on me, too. I feel appreciated each time I perform the way she asks. She dotes on me when I poop on David’s car. She uses language that shows her love. The other day she said, Who’s my little poopy princess? When I hear that, I feel special. I know David is pissed when I poop on the driver’s side door handle, but frankly, it makes me feel regal.”

“Cheeky. Big Boy.” The therapist looks from one to the other. “Am I hearing a situation of conflicting loyalty here? You are beholden to your owners, but also to each other?”

“I think so,” says Cheeky, and for the first time in a while, she looks into Big Boy’s eyes with affection. “Big Boy, I’m proud that you poop like you do. It’s always on target. Sharon hates that, but I’ll be honest, I’m always secretly proud of your skill when I witness it from Sharon’s shoulder. She’s always asking me to poop like you.” Cheeky blushes. “So, I try to poop like you, honey.”

Big Boy’s face melts.

“You do?”

“Every time. I’m proud of how much you poop and how precisely. You’re really good at it.”

Big Boy moves his head closer to Cheeky and they start to nuzzle each other’s faces.

“You two,” begins the therapist, “I want to acknowledge how much you want to be a loving partner to each other. I also acknowledge that you take your roles as pets seriously. Is there a way to reconcile any of this?”

The birds look at each other and start to giggle.

“Well,” says Big Boy, “Maybe we could leave our pet responsibilities out of our marriage. Don’t take our pooper roles home with us.”

“I like the sound of that,” says the therapist, “What do you think, Cheeky?”

“I love the sound of that. When we’re with each other, it can be a poop-free zone. Truth be told, I don’t want to think about Bentleys or bird droppings or human marital games. I know it must be extremely hard to live with so much wealth. Too many luxury cars that require too many pet birds to revenge poop on all the time.”

“Oh,” said Big Boy, “That reminds me. I think our friends Coo Coo and Baxter might be interested in couples therapy, too. They’re in charge of pooping on the Rolls.”

“I’d be happy to meet with them,” offers the therapist.

“Thank you so much,” said Cheeky. “I feel so much better.”

Big Boy starts to squirm a little.

“I think I need to use the restroom now.”

Thank you, Andrew Rodwin, for your second set of eyes on this. You’re my human Grammarly.

If you need to use the restroom, here’s some reading material to take with you: