I'm not a bird person.

When I first moved to New York City, I knew I was going to live by myself in a city where I knew practically no one. Ideally, I wanted to get a dog. But with the obscene investment banking hours, I knew that the shelters wouldn't let me have a puppy.

So I figured a cat might be a better alternative. Cats are more self-entertained, I assumed. Well, I found out I am dreadfully allergic. So much so that the white of my eyeballs swells when in the same room with a cat. That ruled out the cat option.

My mom kept saying that I should get a bird. Wouldn't I want a cute, little bird?

A bird? Who wants a bird? You can't hug a bird. You can't give him kisses and have him curl up on your lap. No, I told my mom, I wouldn't want a bird.

A few weeks later, on my way home, I saw a bird store with tons of colorful lovebirds in the window, chirping loudly. I don't know what made me walk in, but next thing I knew a parrot the size of my face was sitting on my arm, looking into my eyes. When the storeowner quoted me several thousand dollars for the fascinating creature, I balked. Maybe I could see a cheaper, more affordable size?

Which is how I ended up with cupcik.









In the five years that cupcik and I have shared the same apartment, he's never ceased to amaze me. This tiny, blue creature is curious, intelligent, and playful. He imitates the phone ring, he figures out how to maximize his level of fun and he makes our life much more entertaining.

His little feet make small clicking sounds when on the parquet floor. He walks over to the mirrored legs of our chairs and pecks at the bird he sees. He is so excited by the clicking of the computer that he flies on to the keyboard to have a piece of his own. He loves chewing on paper and landing on your head. He's sweet, kind, and comes to everyone.

He's made me into a bird person.

Previously? 121,110.