Abused African Grey Needs A New Home

Hi all, my name is Pepper and I am an abused African Grey Parrot. I am looking for a new home where I can live my life the way I was meant to. In an attempt to convey to you the level of abuse, let me give you some examples:

My day does not start off well. I wake up with the sun around 6:00am. I then start whistling for dad. Often, dad ignores me and does not come right away. Sometime it is not until 7:30am before dad comes to get me out of my cage.

Every other day or so, I get a shower. Dad gets me all wet and then I am attacked by an evil towel. I am not sure what type of torture this is supposed to be, but he rubs me all over with the towel.

When dad is shaving, he does not let me play with the shaving cream.
What is with that?

After playing with me for a measly hour, dad makes my breakfast. I like to take things out of my bowl and throw them while dad is preparing things, but he doesn’t let me do that anymore. Now he makes me WATCH while is getting things ready. I feel like I am going to have a breakdown at these times.

BREAKFAST SUCKS!!! Dad puts all this crap in my bowl. Pellets, Dried fruit, nuts, seeds, and other things. I think he is trying to starve me to death. All I need are peanuts. And french fries. Just fill my bowl with peanuts and french fries and I’ll be fine.

When dad leaves for work he puts me in my cage. Or should I say the torture chamber. There are things hanging all over the place. Bells, ropes, plastic things, wood things, all sorts of things. I tried attacking these things and ripping them to shreds, but new ones keep showing up.

Once a week, dad takes me to work. This is not fun. He stuffs me into a small plastic box and puts me in the car. I can’t see where I am going!! I dig and dig and finally he lets me out so I can see, but it takes him FOREVER!!

At work, there are a whole bunch of evil people. They all try to touch me, and play with me. I just bite them all. Except for one guy. I like him.

Dinner time is teasing time. Dad eats his dinner and does not give it all to me. Sometimes, he gives me a piece of his dinner, but I just throw it on the floor to point out my displeasure.

Finally, I can’t even start to tell you about all the things that I can’t do. I can’t chew on the paper towels that dad used to clean up my poop. I can’t chew on dad’s mail. I can’t chew on dad’s notebook computer. I can’t chew on the remote control. I can’t chew on the telephone cable. Anyway, you get the point.

If you know of a home that can satisfy my needs, please let me know immediately.

Thank you, for your help.


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