Dominican College of San Rafael - Firebrand Yearbook (San Rafael, CA)

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1968 Everybody died last year. Robert Kennedy, my aunt, Martin Luther King, Sister Thomas. Some were expected. others came as shocks. Each one brought a sense of loss. People gone forever. Not appreciated enough until too late. And then it's worse. Of course Perky was different. A little yellow canary locked up in a shiny gray metal cage. A delicate creature whose job was pleasure. It takes a while to know people. You have to know something about them. You have to know how to talk to them. You have to know so much that only comes with age. With animals all that doesnit mat- ter. A child can start a friendship without a single word. I was eight years old when I found him under the Christmas tree. A little yellow Hull that started chirping and rolling into a grand song the minute the sunlight tried to find him. He hopped back and forth between the two highest wooden bars with an occasional Hing on the swing inbetween. His shiny black eyes peered at me. He was so happy. I sat there half the day. Just watching. Playing the popular Perry Como records for him to accompany. He loved them. So we named him Perry Como with the accents on the last syllables. It seemed to fit his dainty diminutive size. But over the years he got to be known more casually as Perky or just plain Perk. He didn't care. It was fun taking care of him for a while. Changing his water. Giving him seed, egg cakes, and sometimes a little scrap of crisp green lettuce. Perk took his weekly baths on Saturdays. He would stubbornly demand his privacy. Not one tiny taloned foot would get near his oval blue l52

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1 -1' ' Ixl I Fil I Hi' I 'Sli-1 ! 3 - X ' KAY QUELLA KEKRY DALY 1 N MARTY IVIERKLE Secretary Isl Vi1,ePresidenI Treasurer 'x ,, SANDY MIC!-IAEI, X! X CHESCA PIUMA President 2nd Vice Presidenl CLASS OF 1972

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plastic cup until everyone was out of the room. Five minutes later he would be jumping around eyeing the sat- urated newspapers beneath him. Wanting me to change his bathroom back to a living room with a white gravel rug. At night I carefully covered him with his own red and yellow cotton sheet. His head missing. Just a funny shaped ball next to his cuddle bone. Perk loved summertime. He liked being hung on the side porch with the pink hollyhocks waving with the wind right outside his front door. He enjoyed having us around him all day. Singing to his heart's content. Not having to live forthe clock saying three. I guess it was about four or five years later that things began to change. It became a chore to check him for food and water every day. It became a real effort to hang him outside. Mostly I just forgot. I begrudged him the time I had to spend with his bath and his floor. He sensed this and deliberately antagonized me by waiting half an hour before deciding to splash around. Well, I had more in- teresting things to do, people to see, places to go. The usual story. High school came and went. Taking care of Perk was no longer a chore. It became a habit. Mechanical. No feel- ing. If he didn't lake a bath in live minutes. Tough. No bath for him that week. If he wanted to be diity it was his problem. Apparently he liked the idea. Sometimes he co- operated. Sometimes he didn't. As soon as I walked in the door after school he'd start chirping. This was the signal to get the egg cake out. I moistened it and slammed it into its special little yellow cup. After a while I didn't l53