Mainly I was a bit depressed about this pet shop I saw the other day. As I walked up to it I could hear birds chattering and screeching. Out the front of the shop were two cockatiels in a cage, one of them missing feathers around its neck and on its head. I wondered what disease it had and thought that it probably wouldn't get to live a full life - after all, who's going to buy a half-bald cockatiel?

Behind that cage was another one, a bigger one containing a plump sulphur-crested cockatoo. This is going to sound so hippie but as I stared at this bird, our eyes met. The bird said in a raspy cockatoo voice, "allo" (don't look at me like that, they can be trained to talk). It then clasped one of the bars of the cage with its beak and climbed off its perch onto the ground for a closer look at me.

What was heartbreaking was the look of resignation in this bird. It looked well cared-for. It was plump, its feathers were beautiful and white and there seemed to be nothing wrong with it. But you know the look on someone's face when they have been watching TV for 10 straight hours? That vacant expression in their eyes as they watch another episode of "Room Raiders" or something equally brainless because that's all there is on TV? THAT's what this bird looked like. Its cage was barely big enough for it to stratch out its wings. All it could do was climb up on its perch, shuffle from one side of it to the other, and climb back down again. I felt so sad for it that the pet store owner was lucky I didn't unfasten the door and set the cockatoo free. The saddest part is that it probably wouldn't survive in the wild anyway, having been raised in a cage and hand-fed. So I just stood there and looked at the enormous bird in its tiny cage. I glanced over at the budgerigars and other small birds on the other side of the doorway, all chirping and squawking at each other, jostling for perching space. At least they had company. There was a small stick on the table so I inserted it between the bars to see what Cocky would do. It clasped the stick with one of its talons and grabbed it with its beak, and I thought, "hey, it's probably glad for the interaction". But then it was as though the bird powered down altogether. It just stood there with the stick in its beak, with one foot still wrapped around it, making quiet little "awk" noises and not moving its eyes.

I hate seeing anything looking so beaten-down. I had no idea I was such a hippie.

Anyway, like I said, I'm in a fairly good mood now. Daniel and I agreed that we're only seeking advice from a solicitor, but we won't send any threatening letters or do *anything* unless Ex Boss's big mouth starts costing us business. Until then all he's doing is making himself look bad, so we can afford to just leave him to it. Maybe he will even talk himself out of a couple more customers.

Well, it's ten past seven and I am not even dressed yet. Got to go get ready for work.