Every morning, millions of Americans wake up with the same thought: Where is my coffee?

Unfortunately, one of them is a cockatoo.

Julius has developed an appreciation for coffee. More specifically, the man has standards. He likes pumpkin spice. Apparently living in our house long enough has turned a 13-year-old umbrella cockatoo into a basic white girl every fall.

The second he sees a coffee cup, the investigation begins. What do you have? Why do you have it? Is it pumpkin spice? And, most importantly, why has Julius not been offered any?

Now, before somebody calls the bird police, Julius does not get caffeinated coffee. Caffeine isn’t safe for birds. But that small detail has never stopped Julius from believing whatever is in our cup rightfully belongs to him.

And if pumpkin spice is involved? Forget about it.

He’ll stare at the cup. Then stare at you. Then back at the cup. You can practically see the gears turning in his head.

I know what that is.

You know I know what that is.

So where’s mine?

The problem with Julius is that once he decides he likes something, he remembers it. This is a bird capable of forgetting every rule we’ve ever established while somehow maintaining a detailed mental record of every food and drink he believes he has been cheated out of. So there he sits, waiting patiently—or at least the cockatoo version of patiently—for somebody to explain why the household coffee service has apparently forgotten its most demanding customer.

Sorry, buddy.

The pumpkin spice may be calling your name.

But the barista says you’ve been cut off.