"Turn the vent on!" Big Dog says. "I don't want critters living in my house."
"No way! I'm not going to churn up the birds with the vent. Gross me out. You want blood and feathers and baby bird guts dripping down the outside of the newly washed house? You want to be up there again on that deathtrap ladder, washing the gunk? Not me!"
Guess Big Dog pictured that scene, too. He hasn't mentioned anything since.
I know my presence on ladders so close to their nursery makes them rather edgy, but while Mama and Papa keep a keen eye on me, they also fill my porch painting days with song. There's something to be learned here.