It turns out, if you leave Harley clinging to the side of his cage at bedtime, miserable and not ready to go to bed, turn the light out, and walk up the stairs with guilt gnawing at every cell in your body, he will eventually climb around to his Sleeping Perch and stay there, sleeping, for the rest of the night. I had to do that to him last night because he just wouldn't go to bed.

My fault, entirely, for not being Bruce.

This past week, in the new place, Harley has had a hard time going to bed. The trick that's worked the best is to take him up to the bedroom with us, lie on the bed, turn out all the lights except for the TV, and have Bruce give him scritches until he's practically asleep. Then I take him downstairs, deposit him on his Sleeping Perch, run to turn out the light before he can climb off his Sleeping Perch, and go upstairs.

As the week wore on, Harley has gotten closer and closer to Bruce's head for the requisite scritches. What used to be Loves On The Bed (picture pops) have turned into Loves On Bruce's Chest — sometimes Harley will rest his beak right on Bruce's cheek.

As absolutely, amazingly cute as this is, I knew I'd be in trouble when Bruce went out of town. And I was right. It turns out the Loves part was easy last night: after a few stops and starts, Harley grudgingly climbed up onto my chest, and then stayed there, mesmerized, for scritches. But once he realized that I could give him Loves, he sure didn't need me to take him anywhere else. I took him downstairs, he climbed off his Sleeping Perch, I took him back upstairs for more Loves, I took him downstairs again, I used the stick, back and forth, and by this time it was really late and I needed to get some sleep. Without a bird on my chest.

But as it turns out, Harley will eventually climb to his Sleeping Perch if you are mean and callous enough to leave him clinging to the side of his cage, forlorn and unloved, at bedtime. Here's hoping I'm not overcome by guilt tonight.