Hogan's Heroes and The Streets of San Francisco belong to others. No copyright infringement is intended. Toby Cockatoo is, of course, mine.

THE COCKATOO CONUNDRUM

A distraught Andrew Carter walked down the corridor at SFPD, reading the nameplates on the doors. He stopped at one labeled "Bureau of Inspectors," pushed it open, and walked in. A slightly-built young man stood up from his desk and approached the worried Air Force officer.

"Good morning, Colonel," he greeted the older man and extended his hand. "Inspector Steve Keller. What can I do for you?"

"I'd like to report a missing person," Carter replied, his voice shot through with worry. "He's been gone since last night. It's not like him to run away from home . . ."

o-o-o-o-o

Toby Cockatoo stretched luxuriously, right wing, left wing, tail feathers. It felt good to take a long flight, especially after being cramped in a travel carrier for a six-hour plane ride. Now let's see, where was he? He looked around. Not in Honolulu, certainly. He remembered his person mentioning something about San Francisco and a conference about pets and sick children. Maybe he'd be expected to put on one of his stellar performances. He hoped his person would come for him soon. Meanwhile, he'd better find some breakfast.

He studied a tall, older man leaving a house down the street. McGarrett? That man's reactions to his cockatoo antics were always interesting! No . . . not tall enough. But he had a kind face and he was carrying a bag of donuts. Not a malasada like that curly-haired detective back in Hawaii offered him now and then, but good enough to delight a cockatoo. The man headed for a brown car. Toby dived for his target, landed on the man's shoulder with a soft "Hi, hello," bounced a couple of times, and added in his best Sergeant Schultz voice, "Want donut!"

o-o-o-o-o

Keller handed the upset officer a cup of coffee and invited him to take a seat. "Tell me about your missing friend. Name, description, age, anything that might help us locate him. What made him run away?" The young detective assumed Carter was talking about a grandchild.

"His name's Toby," Carter replied. He's been with me since Stalag 13 . . ."

"Stalag 13?" Keller sounded confused.

"It was in Germany. I was a POW there during World War II, along with Newkirk - he's my best friend - LeBeau, Kinch, and, of course, Colonel Hogan. Toby helped us trick Major Hochstetter . . ." the older man rambled on.

Keller's head was starting to swim. He felt the beginning of a headache. "This Toby was a POW with you?"

"Not exactly," Carter finished. "He escaped from the Hammelburg zoo and wound up at our camp. He's very talented."

"He escaped from a zoo?" Steve's confusion was evident. "Who or what is Toby?" This was beginning to sound like something for animal control. He looked over at his partner's office. He wished Mike would hurry up and get here! He almost didn't hear Carter's soft reply, "A cockatoo."

o-o-o-o-o

A startled Mike Stone nearly dropped his bag of donuts. What was this bird – a large, excited cockatoo, of all things – doing on his shoulder? He tried to fend off his attacker as the bird pulled the bag out of his hand and skillfully extracted a donut. Holding the treat in his left foot, he began to tear into the delightful, sweet pastry, dropping crumbs and powdered sugar all over Mike's raincoat.

"You must be somebody's pet," Mike addressed the big white bird. "Wish you could tell me where you live."

"I know nothing, N-O-T-H-I-N-G!" Toby chortled and went back to enjoying his breakfast.

"Well, I can't leave you here," the detective decided. "I guess I'll have to take you with me." He gently moved the bird to the passenger seat and handed him another donut. "Won't make much more of a mess than Steve does with his sunflower seeds!"

o-o-o-o-o

"Toby is a WHAT?" Keller practically yelled.

"A cockatoo," Carter replied for the second time. "He and I are here to address a conference on pet therapy with children dealing with serious illness. He got out of his carrier sometime last night, probably picked the lock, and somehow escaped from our hotel room. Please, you have to help me find him." He took a deep breath and added, "Toby likes cops. He hangs around with the Five-O guys a lot."

Keller looked over at Detectives Tanner and Devitt. The two men barely stifled their grins. "It's your case, Steve," Tanner smirked. "A cockatoo that thinks he's a cop!" Turning serious, he added, "We'll keep our eyes open for your pet, Colonel. He can't have gotten very far."

"He didn't!" a gritty voice growled. "He ate my donuts and made a mess of my car."

Toby bounced with glee, His person was here waiting for him! What a well-trained human he had! Carter, mouth open in shock, could only stammer "Toby! Where have you been?" He reached for his pet who snuggled on his arm for some well-deserved feather scritches.

"Looks like Toby made a mess of your raincoat, too," Steve snickered.

Stone, watching the reunion, grinned. "Yeah, Buddy-boy, but it's worth it!"