I glance across the living room just in time to see Meekull traveling sideways across his perch to the corner of his cage, away from the big window his cage is in front of (one of his happy spaces). He's nervously bobbing and chittering. I walk over, bend down, and ask, "Meekull, what's wrong?" I figured his tummy was aching again. He looks up at me and, then, out the window, drawing closer to the cage bars and my cheek as if to hide. I look in the direction he's looking. There on the porch is a stray black cat munching rescue treats. Meekull looks back at me, his little black eyes wide. And he starts bobbing again. I understood him perfectly. He was exclaiming, "I don't know that one." Needless to say, I rolled him away to his other happy space, where he settled into his feathers once more.
