Iwasn’t allowed to have pets growing up. So, when I got married in the late 1970s, I decided to buy my first pet, a conure bird. I named him Condor.

He was green-feathered, with patches of gold and gray on his head and chest, and very vocal. The name Condor was far grander than his size, and I immediately bonded with him. His wings were clipped, so I let him roam the house freely. He hopped from perch to perch like a tiny explorer.

A few months later, my husband surprised me with a 6-week-old Labrador-mix puppy. Max was a bundle of energy and curiosity, and he immediately decided Condor was some kind of squeaky toy with feathers. I wasn’t sure Condor would survive the newcomer, so I always kept a watchful eye when Condor was out of his cage.

Each Thursday evening, I made a batch of popc

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