You introduced us to the concept of pet pigeons.  All the boys on the block had to have one … or two … or more!  I recall mine had the rather macho name of “Fluffy.”  Interesting pigeon fact:  for every ounce of food that goes in the top end, at least a pound of exhaust comes out the bottom end.  What were we thinking??  Pigeons don’t even play fetch.  You were also complicit in my only non-traffic related encounter with law enforcement (but that’s a tale for another time).  Many thanks for adding a bit of drama to my mostly undramatic Sioux-Falls-days.