FOR THE LOVE OF A PET

I promised to be here Monday, and here it is Tuesday already.  My weekend was a a somersault of emotions for me, and it all had to do with one little bird.

Churchill is my 19 yr old Cockateil, that Gary and Jon bought for me for Christmas 19 yrs ago.  I am the bird person in the family.  I had a Cockateil (Dudley) for about eight years, and missed him so much when he was gone, that Gary decided to get me another.

Right off the bat, I decided I would raise Churchill to be a tame bird, so I opened his cage and trained him to trust hands and for the first 11 yrs of his life he was free to come and go as he wished. He trained easily and was extremely affectionate and sweet, and soon he was rocking with me on the rocking chair, taking showers, riding around on my shoulders and pretty much enjoying the best life a bird could have.  He thought he was people, so much so, that I could not cook a meal without him hollering for something of what we were having for our meal. 

When Churchill was about 11 yrs old,  along came Molly.  I was so afraid that the puppy would go after the bird, that for the first time in his life, he was locked in his cage, and although he didn't like it at first, he grew to love the dog so much, he really never complained about it at all.

Instead he'd spit seeds in her waiting mouth, he'd wolf whistle until she'd come in the room,  he'd chatter away at her, and at times I'd swear she knew what he was going on about.  Over the years they have become good friends,
A few months ago Churchill appeared listless and sick, he quit eating or drinking and I thought he was going to leave us, but within a couple of days he bounced back and was okay again.  I did a lot of research on the Internet, and I learned that old birds often get a liver disease, and it usually kills them in a few short days.  He had all the symptoms, but he got better.

This has repeated itself many times over the past months and every time it happens it takes him longer and longer to bounce back - and this weekend was the worst.

I thought for sure we were going to loose him this time, he was actually crying out as he climbed around his cage, and then he quit doing even that, and sat at the bottom with his eyes closed for long periods of time.

Have you ever got the weeps and couldn't seem to stop - well that was me for most of the weekend.  While I know his time is near, I couldn't seem to handle the thought of him not being there, in my own way I guess I was preparing for the end.  I told him that if he had to go, he could, that I would miss him so much, but I couldn't stand to see him suffer.  When I went to bed Sunday night, I said goodnight to him, and he peeped back at me, as he does every night, but I didn't actually think he would be with is come morning.

He was -  barely.

All day yesterday I would call Gary to see how he was and I could tell by Gary's voice that it was not good news.  I prepared myself for the worst, because Gary told me to, and when I went home, I headed straight into Church's room, and up popped his head, the minute he heard my voice.  He struggled to come to me and I picked him up and held him for awhile.   I cleaned his cage and lowered all his dishes so he wouldn't have to climb to eat or drink, and I made him some toast.  And he climbed on to his food dish and just sat there.

He started to eat, then drink, then preen himself, and pretty soon he was climbing up the cage (without crying this time).

He's been down to his dish several times since then, his eyes are wide open and he's chattering at me again.

And it seems, he's not ready to leave me quite yet...

I know one of these times I will have to say goodbye to my sweet dear friend, but I don't think it's going to be today, and I hope it won't be tomorrow, because I'm not ready to say goodbye yet either...