What better companion could you ask for when working at home, sitting at the computer hour after hour? A little being who loves you unconditionally, sings for you and breaks the monotony by demanding attention while fully understanding your moods.

This post is dedicated to Caruso, my aria-whistling companion who enriched my life during the eight years he lived.

Caruso, a blue-headed Pionus parrot, came to my family from a Texas aviary when he was a couple of months old. He showed us his determination from the very start by resisting being put back in his shipping box for the night. The aviary had suggested he would probably feel more secure in it, but no, he wanted out and to join us.

Telephone interpreting with him in the room was risky, but he somehow knew that a finger over my mouth meant “go mute.” If the call extended beyond his patience, he would fly over and start pacing the desk. During my phone interpreting career, a judge complained once about a bad connection and static in the background, but never about parrot noises.

Caruso’s wings were not clipped; he was able to fly around the office and the entire house. He potty-trained himself and flew back to his perch if “nature called.”

He loved attention. If I sat at the computer for too long, pounding on the keyboard, he would land next to the workstation and say “pst!” If I still ignored him, he would sit on my right hand holding the mouse and look at me with his beautiful brown eyes, as if asking, “Do you see me now?”

He shared my passion for books, dictionaries and everything that I had on my desk and on the shelves around me. Caruso inspected most and left his trademark on them: an inverted V-shaped tear!

Caruso knew when I was not feeling well or was sick. Once, a strong migraine sent me to bed for a good part of the day. Caruso perched on the exercise bike next to the bed in my room, flew to the bed and walked up and down my body, very quietly, checking on me.

While parrots are known for mimicking people, I would say that a better description is that they learn gestures and words and anticipate them. He would start “grinding” coffee as soon as I had the coffee bean grinder on the counter. He would make the sound of a blowing nose as I had a tissue in hand ready to blow my nose.

My husband noticed that Caruso sensed my driving back home and would ruffle his feathers in anticipation. He loved to sit next to my son and listen to him playing the guitar and singing. Those were the only times when he would not move to my finger. Indeed, these were the only times he would give my extended hand a gentle peck as if saying, “Don’t interrupt my serenade.”

While the Pionus species is not known for being a good talker, Caruso spoke four languages — English, Danish, Italian and Portuguese — and in context. He knew when and how to say something at the right time. His “I love you” melted me every time, even if he said it right after he took a bite out of one of my precious dictionaries. Some of his endearing talks were:

• English (his A language): What are you doing, huh? Go to bed. Come here!
• Portuguese: Carusinho querido (dearest little Caruso), Bom dia (good morning).
• Danish: Sov godt (sleep well), Har du sovet godt? (Did you sleep well?), God morgen (Good morning).
• Italian: Ha dormito bene? (Did you sleep well?)

The pièce de résistance, however, was Caruso’s rendition of “Mio Babbino Caro” (Giacomo Puccini). He could whistle a good part of it, in tune and with sentiment. We never got tired of “singing” the aria together.

Caruso enchanted us for eight years with his perky, fun and unwavering love. Now, every time “Mio Babbino Caro” is played, I hear Caruso whistling in the background.

Ines Bojlesen is a member of the Jottings Group (jottings33@gmail.com) at the Lake Oswego Adult Community Center.