Maggie and Lulu and I took a trip over to the dog park today. As we got out of the car and headed toward the park, I had to stop and wonder if my foggy brain was playing tricks on me. I blinked and looked again.
Yep, he still was there. Perched on a the fence like he owned the joint.
His owner says his name is Frank, and he's 25 years old. In bird years, he's just a youngster. Frank is a big guy. I'm guessing that from beak to the tip of his tail feathers, he's just as long as Maggie.
I was amazed at Frank's self assurance and composure as he walked - yes walked - around the park in the midst of two yapping schnauzers (take a guess who owned them..), two pugs, and two chihuahuas. Actually, he seemed to enjoy the attention. He didn't ruffle his feathers or back away when the dogs circled around him, barking and sniffing.
After the novelty wore off, Mags and Lulu ran off with the pugs. Frank hopped up on the rock and started throwing sticks at them to regain their attention, while saying, "Hello! Goodbye!"
What a bird! Hope to see ya again and soon, Frank.
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