Saeni and Millie

My mother had a mean, fat cat named Millicent. My mother claims that Millie had a sweet temperament before my father took her in to be spayed and de-clawed. He insists that Millie tried to claw him out in his sleep several times before then. I still don't know the truth, but whenever I look into Millie's mean old eyes, I start to side with my father.

I grew up learning to avoid Millie. Millie splayed out on the couch meant I was sitting on the floor. Millie on my chair meant I would do homework on my bed. Once Millie perched on my toilet for hours while I hovered nervously, timidly trying to shoo her off.

If Millicent was in a bad mood, she was hiss and attempt to claw me with her soft paws, her yellow eyes glinting furiously. In my younger and more foolish days, I baited her, waiting for the claw-less bat. Then Millie got smart and used her teeth.

After Millie bit me, my father was all for getting rid of her. But she was my mother's baby, her darling. And, frustratingly enough, around my mother Millie was the sweetest thing. She would rub her fluffy body against my mother's legs, purring melodically. But once my mother was out of the vicinity, Millie was the devil. Even my father, one of the bravest men I knew, avoided that cat when she was in one of her moods.

In fact, the only being alive to have ever combated the ferocious Millie was a teal parakeet named Saeni.

Saeni was a hand-me-down from my grandmother. She loved birds, and always claimed they were the most intelligent creatures. She could enumerate on their virtues for hours - they were beautiful, with their multicolored feathers; they were clean and neat; they were fascinating companions, always ready to talk and to listen.

When my grandmother moved out of her own apartment and into a retirement home, however, Saeni came into our house.

"It's only until we can find a permanent owner," my father promised my skeptical mother. "My mother loves this bird."

My mother allowed the bird cage and curious bird into our residence reluctantly, and we put Saeni's cage on my desk, which was the only free surface in our house. Immediately, in front of our curious eyes, Millie stalked up to the cage and stuck her nose between the bars.

Saeni pecked the intruding appendage and Millie yelped.

My mother yelped, too, and ran to help her baby, but for the first time, Millie snapped at her and turned back toward the bird, a look of determination etched on her face.

Millie clawed at Saeni, but the bird nimbly dodged it, cocking her head to the side. Millie continued to bat at the bird, but to no avail. And then Saeni went onto the counterattack and pecked at Millie's side, yanking a beak full of hair out. Millie jumped a foot in the air, and for the first time lost her balance and tumbled off the desk, landing on her back.

Leaping to her feet and trying to regain the dignity she had just lost, Millie stalked away, nursing her bruised ego, as my dad and I cheered for Saeni.



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