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Man, birds these days.
A few weeks ago we had to take in my boyfriend's girl parakeet, Speedy, to an emergency vet, because the night before his mother let a stray cat into the house, and it took a nice swipe at her little belly. She had a huge gaping gash in her side, exposing her... something cavity, I dunno, something to do with the lungs. It was so bad they had to knock her out and give her stitches, and for two weeks he had to give her antibiotics every six hours.
Then last night one of mine, Rocco, flew into the ceiling fan and gave himself a huge bruise on his face. We took him to the vet today, who clipped his wings so I could catch him (I was a half hour late for our appointment because I couldn't grab him) and we have to give him some sort of eye drops (uh, eye drops for a hole in the head exposing his ear? If they say so...) once a day for a week.
In both cases we got so lucky, Speedy could easily have died and Rocco could have broken a wing, or lost an eye (his eyelid even has a bruise). We're going to have to take Mookie to have his wings clipped so he doesn't fly around the house and make poor Rocco fly after him and fall.
I didn't sleep all night worrying about Rocco, I'm so glad he's okay. We really didn't need that 70-something bucks for the visit, but eh, whatcha gonna do.
-12:00 PM
A few weeks ago we had to take in my boyfriend's girl parakeet, Speedy, to an emergency vet, because the night before his mother let a stray cat into the house, and it took a nice swipe at her little belly. She had a huge gaping gash in her side, exposing her... something cavity, I dunno, something to do with the lungs. It was so bad they had to knock her out and give her stitches, and for two weeks he had to give her antibiotics every six hours.
Then last night one of mine, Rocco, flew into the ceiling fan and gave himself a huge bruise on his face. We took him to the vet today, who clipped his wings so I could catch him (I was a half hour late for our appointment because I couldn't grab him) and we have to give him some sort of eye drops (uh, eye drops for a hole in the head exposing his ear? If they say so...) once a day for a week.
In both cases we got so lucky, Speedy could easily have died and Rocco could have broken a wing, or lost an eye (his eyelid even has a bruise). We're going to have to take Mookie to have his wings clipped so he doesn't fly around the house and make poor Rocco fly after him and fall.
I didn't sleep all night worrying about Rocco, I'm so glad he's okay. We really didn't need that 70-something bucks for the visit, but eh, whatcha gonna do.
-12:00 PM
Today is not a good day. My grandmother's bird (who is 28) may be dying, and I've lost one of my very favorite pendants (the fake bottlecap with the gold glitter and yellow flower, in case you might remember it.)
I'm in denial about Aldo, but I AM SO FREAKING PISSED ABOUT MY PENDANT. If I don't find it, BITCHES WILL BE CUT. AND WE'RE HAVING A HURRICANE TOMORROW SO IF IT'S OUTSIDE IT'LL BE GONE FOREVER @#($&(@#&$()!@$&Z(@!)))))))$$&*Z*@#$Z&$*@#^$&*@#^&$^@#7846z782364z78^$Z&@#^Z!Z
-2:04 AM
I'm in denial about Aldo, but I AM SO FREAKING PISSED ABOUT MY PENDANT. If I don't find it, BITCHES WILL BE CUT. AND WE'RE HAVING A HURRICANE TOMORROW SO IF IT'S OUTSIDE IT'LL BE GONE FOREVER @#($&(@#&$()!@$&Z(@!)))))))$$&*Z*@#$Z&$*@#^$&*@#^&$^@#7846z782364z78^$Z&@#^Z!Z
-2:04 AM
We got another new bird today, since first new bird is kind of lame (still cute, though.)
Still no names for either bird.
Trying to get 100,000 words by my birthday. Have 2,793 of the newest draft, 458 words of a random passage to be inserted later, 204 for the same, 1,183 for, again, a passage to be included later, and 28,751 words of potentially either useless or salvageable material, depending on my talent and patience.
I might be able to work better if it turns out that I have (insert seeekrit medical disorder here) and get medicine for it. Because looking at the symptoms, and how very many of them apply to me, I'll be shocked if it's not the case. I forgot to mention that when I wrote about going to the doctor, but if it turns out to be true I'll explain all about it. And then I'll get medicine and be SUPERWOMAN. Srsly. Maybe I'll be able to learn how to drive. (And I didn't realize something was potentially wrong until I went in for the sinus infection, and she was like "Oh, P.S....")
-4:53 AM
Still no names for either bird.
Trying to get 100,000 words by my birthday. Have 2,793 of the newest draft, 458 words of a random passage to be inserted later, 204 for the same, 1,183 for, again, a passage to be included later, and 28,751 words of potentially either useless or salvageable material, depending on my talent and patience.
I might be able to work better if it turns out that I have (insert seeekrit medical disorder here) and get medicine for it. Because looking at the symptoms, and how very many of them apply to me, I'll be shocked if it's not the case. I forgot to mention that when I wrote about going to the doctor, but if it turns out to be true I'll explain all about it. And then I'll get medicine and be SUPERWOMAN. Srsly. Maybe I'll be able to learn how to drive. (And I didn't realize something was potentially wrong until I went in for the sinus infection, and she was like "Oh, P.S....")
-4:53 AM
I think I might be getting sick. I can't remember what sickness feels like, because I usually get sick once a year. But I've been really tired lately, my throat is killing me, my eyes are burning, and my nose almost feels sick. I dunno. I honestly cannot remember the difference between bad allergies and a cold (my last cold was years ago) or a sinus infection (my last sinus infection was last year). I went to bed several hours earlier than usual last night. My only complaint is, how can a person who rarely leaves her house get sick?? Oh well. It'll be over pretty soon, if the past is any indication.
Also, my grandma's going away for awhile tomorrow and so we're watching her bird until she gets back next week (my grandfather is not a good birdsitter) and I'm excited. I love her bird. He's 28 years old, which is like a hundred in cockatiel years. My bird seems excited too.
-11:54 PM
Also, my grandma's going away for awhile tomorrow and so we're watching her bird until she gets back next week (my grandfather is not a good birdsitter) and I'm excited. I love her bird. He's 28 years old, which is like a hundred in cockatiel years. My bird seems excited too.
-11:54 PM
Explanation
Oct. 1st, 2006 03:18 amSo at around 2 o'clock this morning, I found out what that bad feeling from the other day was.
My cockatiel died. I often described him as an angry bird who didn't want to be bothered, which was true. For some reason, despite his nasty attitude, I loved him. He's been my pet since I was seven, and I never imagined life without him... even though he never did much of anything besides stare out the window. He's outlived every previous pet I've ever had besides my current parakeet, Petey. Petey was very, very, VERY fond of him for reasons unknown (when Petey was little we let them meet and Caesar, the cockatiel, bit him right away) and as you might have imagined, Petey's upset, too. He doesn't quite understand, but I took him out of his cage to say goodbye and he kept looking at him the way I've never seen him look at anything before, so I guess he knows. Still, tomorrow he's going to wake up to an empty cage beside him, and I'm kind of dreading that. When my mother (or me, if I'm being nice to my mother) wakes up the birds, she takes off their covers, opens Petey's cage (Petey's extraordinarily tame, so he stays out of his cage when he's not sleeping) and puts out a little bowl of water on top of Caesar's cage. Petey runs up to Caesar's cage and looks at him awhile, then goes and eats some seeds (we also keep seeds on top of his cage, along with toys and lettuce and things) and then eventually he gets bored and goes back to his own cage to take a nap (birds have a tendency to nap when bored. :D)
Tomorrow there won't be any Caesar for poor little Petey to feed or look at or whatever they did together.
Having a bird die is not quite like other pet deaths. With fish, people tend to flush them. With dogs and cats, and I'm assuming other large mammals, they usually get sick or injured and the vet takes care of them. With birds (and my hamster) it's a bit different. We usually have little to no warning, and then end up scrambling around the next morning looking for a box to bury him (or her) in. So we buried Caesar already... I had to lay him down in the hole. I said goodbye, and tomorrow I think I'll bring a flower out, for all the animals we've buried back there, including all the fish in tissues. It makes me happy to know that Caesar is with my other pets: Stinky the hamster, innumerable fish (including Felix and Oscar, Frogetta the tiny frog, a tiny catfish, etc.), and Popsie (my lone female bird, a parakeet), Fred (a bird my parents had in New York, left with my uncle, and then got back when my uncle drove down to let him retire in Florida, a type of parakeet that resembles a small parrot and eats large foods with his foot and was very friendly, he used to play with my hair) and a canary we had for several years that never got a name for some odd reason, and stopped singing one day for no reason.
The strange thing was, my mother told me that for the past few days she'd been having a weird feeling like something bad was going to happen.... just like me, except neither of us had told the other. I told her about mine after she told me about hers and then we cried a little, a strange thing for my mother to do. And then my father came home from work (everyone in my family is an insomniac... does that surprise you?) and buried him.
There's nothing else to say, I guess. Caesar was, as I told Bianca, one badass mofo of a bird. He didn't take any nonsense from any bitches. I often called my birds my brothers, and although it doesn't feel like I lost a brother... it does feel like I've lost a little part of myself, because he was there for so much of my life.
Rest in peace, my little angry friend. I know what it's like to hate the world, we had a lot in common. I'll miss your little orange cheeked face, your spiked up feather "hair" and your chirps.
Goodbye, Caesar.
<3
My cockatiel died. I often described him as an angry bird who didn't want to be bothered, which was true. For some reason, despite his nasty attitude, I loved him. He's been my pet since I was seven, and I never imagined life without him... even though he never did much of anything besides stare out the window. He's outlived every previous pet I've ever had besides my current parakeet, Petey. Petey was very, very, VERY fond of him for reasons unknown (when Petey was little we let them meet and Caesar, the cockatiel, bit him right away) and as you might have imagined, Petey's upset, too. He doesn't quite understand, but I took him out of his cage to say goodbye and he kept looking at him the way I've never seen him look at anything before, so I guess he knows. Still, tomorrow he's going to wake up to an empty cage beside him, and I'm kind of dreading that. When my mother (or me, if I'm being nice to my mother) wakes up the birds, she takes off their covers, opens Petey's cage (Petey's extraordinarily tame, so he stays out of his cage when he's not sleeping) and puts out a little bowl of water on top of Caesar's cage. Petey runs up to Caesar's cage and looks at him awhile, then goes and eats some seeds (we also keep seeds on top of his cage, along with toys and lettuce and things) and then eventually he gets bored and goes back to his own cage to take a nap (birds have a tendency to nap when bored. :D)
Tomorrow there won't be any Caesar for poor little Petey to feed or look at or whatever they did together.
Having a bird die is not quite like other pet deaths. With fish, people tend to flush them. With dogs and cats, and I'm assuming other large mammals, they usually get sick or injured and the vet takes care of them. With birds (and my hamster) it's a bit different. We usually have little to no warning, and then end up scrambling around the next morning looking for a box to bury him (or her) in. So we buried Caesar already... I had to lay him down in the hole. I said goodbye, and tomorrow I think I'll bring a flower out, for all the animals we've buried back there, including all the fish in tissues. It makes me happy to know that Caesar is with my other pets: Stinky the hamster, innumerable fish (including Felix and Oscar, Frogetta the tiny frog, a tiny catfish, etc.), and Popsie (my lone female bird, a parakeet), Fred (a bird my parents had in New York, left with my uncle, and then got back when my uncle drove down to let him retire in Florida, a type of parakeet that resembles a small parrot and eats large foods with his foot and was very friendly, he used to play with my hair) and a canary we had for several years that never got a name for some odd reason, and stopped singing one day for no reason.
The strange thing was, my mother told me that for the past few days she'd been having a weird feeling like something bad was going to happen.... just like me, except neither of us had told the other. I told her about mine after she told me about hers and then we cried a little, a strange thing for my mother to do. And then my father came home from work (everyone in my family is an insomniac... does that surprise you?) and buried him.
There's nothing else to say, I guess. Caesar was, as I told Bianca, one badass mofo of a bird. He didn't take any nonsense from any bitches. I often called my birds my brothers, and although it doesn't feel like I lost a brother... it does feel like I've lost a little part of myself, because he was there for so much of my life.
Rest in peace, my little angry friend. I know what it's like to hate the world, we had a lot in common. I'll miss your little orange cheeked face, your spiked up feather "hair" and your chirps.
Goodbye, Caesar.
<3
