Every household has its rules, especially when there’s a cockatoo involved. And in Julius’s mind, Rule #1 is clear: Thou shalt respect the personal space of the royal bird. Unfortunately, Dad seems to have missed the memo. It all started innocently enough. Julius was perched peacefully on the arm of the recliner, minding his own business, gently preening a few chest feathers and enjoying the faint background hum of the TV. It was a quiet moment. Sacred, even. Then, like a stealthy predator (albeit one holding a coffee mug), Dad swooped in.

“Who’s my fluffy baby?” Dad cooed, eyes twinkling.

Julius froze. His crest started to rise—not in excitement, but in suspicion. The telltale signs were there: the slow grin, the outstretched hand, the tone that meant only one thing… snuggles were coming. Before Julius could retreat to a higher perch, Dad was in full cuddle mode—rubbing his beak, scratching under his wings, cradling his fluffy body like a newborn chick. Julius tolerated it for a solid ten seconds (which, in cockatoo time, is equivalent to an hour of patience). But then came the kiss.

Right on top of the head.

It was over.

Julius turned his head dramatically, gave a long, theatrical sigh, and then delivered the ultimate statement of disapproval: the slow sidestep down Dad’s arm, followed by a sassy wing fluff and a pointed look that screamed, “How dare you.” But here’s the thing—despite all the theatrics, Julius never flies away. He grumbles, he shifts, he throws some serious side-eye… but he stays. Deep down, he kind of loves it. He may not admit it (at least not in front of the other birds), but the snuggles are part of the ritual. The annoyance is half the fun. Dad, of course, remains unfazed. “You love it,” he says with a grin, pulling Julius a little closer.

Julius groans like a teenager being hugged in public. And somewhere, buried beneath all those dramatic feathers, he knows: being smothered in affection is just part of being loved. Even if it comes with a side of embarrassment. So if you ever visit and see Julius giving Dad the “look,” just know—he’s not actually mad. He’s just maintaining appearances. After all, even kings have soft spots.