Does Buster really like me?

I have been feeding my neighbor’s beautiful green, yellow and red parrot while she’s gone on a trip.

At first, Buster looked at me suspiciously with his small round eyes and didn’t say a thing.

After a few days, when he figured out that I am the person appointed to provide him with bird food, bits of apple and blueberries, he began greeting me as soon as I opened the front door. “Hi, hi,” Buster says. “Hello.”

Sometimes he even says, “Hello, Buster.”

After a few more days, Buster listened intently when I stood and talked to him and then moved closer to the side of his cage so that I could gently pet his feathers.

The next day, he stuck one of his claws out of the cage. When I moved my finger close, Buster wrapped his claw around my finger.

“Buster likes me,” I reported to my husband and daughter.

“I’m not sure that means he likes you,” my daughter told me.

“It’s just a reflex,” my husband said.

But I think they’re wrong. I think Buster likes me. And I know I like Buster.


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