It doesn’t take much time at all living in an interspecies flock before you realize that the tuneless squawking that your large featherless assistant calls “words” can cause a lot of confusion.
Take the word “perfect,” for example.
To your featherless biographer, this word has several definitions, each modified by time, place, personality and circumstance.
It all gets too complicated too quickly.
But to you, defining “perfect” is easy.
It means you.
You are perfect.
You are perfect because you are you.
You are perfect because you are the only you who ever was, is now or ever will be.
(And the fact that you are perfectly cute, with a full set of perfect grey and white feathers, perfect round black eyes, a perfectly curved beak, two perfect pink feet and a perfectly soft kissable belly certainly doesn’t hurt either.)
Pearl, Malti, Bruce & their mama
