Chapter 6
The cockatoo bobbed up and down, crest feathers up, wings slightly out, as she repeated the lyrics to a song currently popular on the radio.
“Someone sure feels happy today,” Clara said, rubbing a finger along the cockatoo’s chest. “Does she know any Christmas carols?”
The young boy she belonged to pushed his glasses up his nose with one finger, a practiced move. His mom stood by the door holding his coat and mittens. “I’ve been trying to teach her ‘Jingle Bells.’”
As if on cue, the cockatoo began to recite a silly childhood rhyme about a superhero and his personal hygiene.
Clara giggled. “A classic.” She drew her prescription pad from her coat pocket. For the most part it went unused, since she doled out medication herself, and her patients’ owners always came back if they
