Ever since he was a small boy, Jay Park had had a problem. It was not a medical problem, for he enjoyed excellent health. Nor was it a matter of money, for he never felt the lack of it. Nor did he ever fall out with the neighbors or fall afoul of the law.

What Jay Park suffered from was an addiction.

Not to cigarettes - he didn't smoke ; nor to alcohol - he didn't drink ; nor to food - for though he had a good appetite, he was not greedy. Jay Park's addiction was not at all a usual one, and I doubt you would ever guess what it was. So I'll tell you.

Jay Park had never been able to stop himself from looking into the windows of pet shops.

First as a boy, then as a youth, and finally as an adult - for he continued to live at home with his parents - he would stand and gaze, year in, year out, and wish that someday he might have a pet of his own. But never once did he enter a pet shop, for his mother and father, who did not like animals, had forbidden him to do so. Then, on Jay Park's twenty-fifth birthday, Fate took a hand.

To celebrate the occasion there was a choice of canned crab or pork pie for tea. Jay Park chose the pork pie, and it was fortunate he did so, for his mother and father agreed that something tasted ever so funny about the canned crab.

Twenty-four hours later, Jay Park was an orphan.

On the way home from his parents' funeral it just so happened that Jay Park had to pass his local pet shop. As he had always done, over the years, he stopped and stood and gazed into the window, at the puppies and kittens, at the rabbits and guinea pigs, at the parakeets and canaries. "If only I could have a pet of my own," he said wistfully, as he had always said, over the years.

Then it suddenly dawned on him. He could! Who was to stop him? Thanks to the canned crab, no one.

Thanks to the canned crab, he need no longer simply stand and stare hopelessly at the window. He could go in! He could go in and buy himself a pet, any sort of pet - whatever he fancied!

As a small boy he'd always wanted a white mouse. As he grew, so did the animals he dreamed of owning - a gerbil, a hamster, a guinea pig, a rabbit - until when grown-up he thought how nice it would be to have a caat or a dog. But since he had never been allowed inside a pet shop, Jay Park had never had to make a choice. Now, suddenly, he could!

He pushed open the door. "Shut that door!" cried a loud angry voice as Jay Park entered the shop, and he hastened to obey. He was accustomed as always to do as he was told. But I must say, he thought, that shopkeeper is a very rude fellow. How does he expect to run a successful business if he shouts at his customers in that way?

However, when Jay Park turned around he thought that the shopkeeper looked like a polite sort of person, who smiled and said in quite a different tone, "Good morning, sir. What can I do for you?"

"Well," said Jay Park, "I want to buy a pet."

"For a child perhaps?" asked the shopkeeper.

"No. For myself."

"What sort of pet?" Jay Park turned to look at the cages ranged along the walls. "I don't know," he said, to which the reply was, "Silly fool!"

Jay Park was a mild-mannered man who had never been known to say "boo" to a goose. For all of his twenty five years he had done exactly as he was told, by his teachers at school and by his late mother and father at home. Which is why he had shut the door of the pet shop even though it seemed to him that the shopkeeper could well have said "please." But now to be called a silly fool by a perfect stranger was a bit much.

He took off his spectacles so as not to have to meet the shopkeeper's eye and polished them vigorously with his hankerchief.

"Just because I haven't yet made my mind up what sort of pet I want," Jay Park said rather nervously, "I really don't think you have any right to call me that." The shopkeeper smiled. "Call you what?" he asked, and, as if in answer, the different voice said. "Silly fool!"

Putting his spectacles on again, Jay Park saw that the speaker was sitting in a large cage hanging just above the shopkeeper's head. It was a bird the size of a dove, glossy black in color save for a white bar on each wing, with yellow feet and wattles, and a stout orange-red bill.

"I'm sorry," said the shopkeeper. "You're not the first person to complain about his language, not by a long shot. He's the rudest bird in the world, he is."

"What is he?" asked Jay Park. "He's a mynah," said the shopkeeper. "A greater Indian hill mynah, to give him his proper title. They live in the forests of the hilly parts of India. Wonderful mimics they are, better than any parrot, and he's as good as a one as I've ever heard, but he never says a civil word to anyone."

"Shut your face!" said the mynah. "See what I mean?" said the shopkeeper. "No wonder I haven't been able to sell im. Now then, sir, perhaps I can help you to choose a pet of some sort. Do you see anything you fancy?" Jay Park pottered round the shop, looking at all the different animals that were for sale. All the time he kept half an eye on the mynah, waiting to hear what it would say next, but it remained silent. Jay Park completed his tour of the shop and stood looking up at the bird. "How much?" he asked. "The mynah?" asked the shopkeeper. "Yes." said Jay Park. "Mind your own business," said the mynah. "Two hundred fifty dollars," said the shopkeeper. "Which is a fair price, I assure you."

"Rubbish!" said the mynah. "In fact," said the shopkeeper, "for two hundred fifty dollars I'll throw in the cage as well."

"Done!" said Jay Park. "Silly fool!" said the mynah.