Our Dearest Gabby

I remember when we first got Gabby. I must have been 6 or so and I remember her in a box, on the floor, growling. She was scared. Dad set up the cage and used gloves to put her in her new home. Eventually, she calmed down. We were fascinated with her.

Over the years, we taught her lots of things:
--She called out all of our names, including my pet rabbit "Oreo"
--She whistled the French national anthem "La Marseillaise"
--She whistled a sexy whistle, one time, apparently, when Grandma was coming out of the bathroom in a towel!
--She said "Bravo!" after Mom finished playing the piano
--She said "Bonne nuit" (goodnight) every night when we put a sheet over her cage
--She said "Je suis jolie" (I am pretty) in Mom's voice
--She loved it when we scratched her neck and gave her kisses; she mimicked our kissing sounds too
--She said "n'importe quoi" (whatever), and even once after Dad was conducting a Bible study in the livingroom; and a few times during conversations with guests around the dinner table.
--She (somehow!) picked up "Pffftt!... oops!"
--She said "I love you"
--More recently, she learned the Mission Impossible theme song thanks to my brother-in-law Max
--She said her name quite often in our voices "Hey Gabby! Hey Gabbers!"
--She answered the phone in Dad's voice "Allo? Oh, oui..." every time the phone rang
--She danced to Mom's music like "Abba" and "Chicago" and occasionally to Dad's "Sting" and other music that none of us liked too much... We teased him.
--And of course she squawked and sang and whistled her own language

When Mom fed her, Gabby thought she could escape from the little opening...

... so she would climb down and check it out...

... and stretch her neck out as far as she could. Sorry Gabby, no escaping today.

Several times she did escape though. Once, in those early years, Gabby escaped, and we all had to quickly shut every door to our bedrooms so we could contain her where she was already. I was shutting one door while Peter was shutting another, except that I was steadying myself with my right hand--in the doorframe! The next thing I knew, Peter was repeatingly slamming his door thinking that a toy was blocking it. It was my middle finger instead. Another time, right around Christmas, Gabby got spooked and flew right into our Christmas tree! That was too funny.
She loved her freedom.





Gabby was a good bird. I know we will miss her. It won't be the same when I visit my family and she won't be there.

Thanks Mom and Dad for adopting her into our family :)