Billy T. Bird. T. stands for "the." He belonged to my parents. Mom gave him to me after Dad died. He will likely outlive me as they can last up into their 70s. He's a mere 30 or so but looks much younger. He talks. He laughs. His laugh is my laugh and has fooled visitors who have looked for me in the house, only to find the bird. He cries a newborn's cry. Seems his first owners had a baby and soon afterward ditched the bird. He's been in our family for almost 30 years and is the last living pet that came with me from Michigan. Mitten, the 26-toed cat, died at the ripe old age of 22, a few years ago. In case my son doesn't want or isn't in a position to have the bird, I'll be searching for a willing heir. Like I don't have enough to do?