My little guy likes to rub his head against my finger when I stick it in between the bars of his cage (he alternates between it and his other toys, which include an assortment of mirrors, bells, balls and a swing). Yesterday I noticed his face felt rough, so when I spoke to Mom I suggested he was in need of a bath. “I suspect he’s moulting,” she replied. Either way, I answered, I’m sure he’d feel better if he got a bath.

Today, Mom wasn’t going to give it to him because the building where I live was a hundred degrees, and she was inappropriately dressed in a sweatshirt (one can never quite tell what clothing’s required with our unpredictable weather). But, one look at Ethan and Mom announced, “Yeah—he’s looking gnarly.” So she got out the oil-based spray and gave him a bath.

The bottle’s empty now, but I’m saving it—Mom said she’ll put water in there. “A water bath is better than nothing.” (Sometime back, Grandma told me I was running out of the stuff, so Mom went to the pet store—only, they don’t sell it anymore. “I don’t know if something in there was harmful to the birds, or harmful to the environment, but that’s normally the reason why.”

Hope he's feeling better after his bath.

Yes, Dotb, he is