Chex
Really long post following. Scroll down if you don't want to see it: I don't know how to cut.
I have no idea how to start this. But I've been putting it off, and putting it off, and I really don't think I can anymore.
*smiles* Of course, I've just sat here staring at my rats for a full minute, so maybe I can...
Chex was perfectly calm on Thursday morning. No, wait, start before that.
Chex had been running from me all week--trying to avoid the meds I kept making him take. Wednesday night I decided this was rediculous, and I got him out and just held him for close to two hours. We worked on the computer, and he demanded I scratch his neck. Ran down my arms and butted his head against my typing fingers. I, of course, scratched. He was nothing if not spoiled. He'd been eating birdy bready all week. He LOVES birdy bread. He'd been a little piggie, and I indulged him Wednesday night--not only did he get birdy bread, but he got seed, TOO. He was ecstatic.
Wednesday night I couldn't sleep. I got up and wrote for a long time. I posted here, actually. The next morning all the birds were exausted. Poor Katie kept saying, "Good night. Good night go night night. Good night, Katie-bird." I put Chex in his little travel cage, and left the room.
I think Chex already knew he was going to die. I think he'd already said his good-byes to the others. Emmy and he normally scream at each other; this time, they each gave a little chirp once, and that was all.
I got him in the car, and he mustered his energy and said bye to me, too--we played the 'I'll sing half, then you sing half' game all the way to the vet. He was preening when I left.
I nearly had a panic attack driving away. I kept thinking, "I didn't say good bye to him! How will he know I'm coming back?" Over and over again. I finally imagined how I would have said good bye, and that I could always call the vet when I got to work and tell them to say "Jenna will be back later"--the birds know who 'jenna' is, and they know what 'be back later' means. But I calmed down, finally, and didn't do that. I don't regret that--Chex knew.
The vet cleaned him up for me, and wrapped him up so that I could see his little face, but nothing else. She even got all the antibiotics off his face, so that his feathers were soft. She put him in a sock, in a box, which I'm going to wrap and take home. T hat way, if my luggage gets searched in customs they'll just find one of several boxes.
I learned that Chex was always the bird at night who made all the fuss. Now, when I turn the light out, the 'tiels are quiet. They don't hiss and carry on until they get settled.
The flock dynamic has already changed. Kris and Fetti sit on the higher branches, while Emmy is relegated to the lower ones. Emmy is carrying on Chex's tradition of folding the papers back.
Maelie e-mailed me, and was talking about how he'd been learning cards and eating potato chips at my housewarming party. I'd forgotten that, but I think I might have a photo of Maelie teaching Chex cards somewhere...At least, I think I remember seeing one.
Chex, by the way, is in the photo I put on here of me and the three birds. He's the little gray one.
I've got pages filled now of things I remember Chex doing. Whenever I think of him, I imagine him with his wings just slightly away from his body, all his feathers flattened down, crouching just a little bit as he sings. He was always singing.
Bry got me really really drunk Thursday night. I made Chex a farewell dinner he would have loved, drank half a bottle of wine and half a pitcher of beer, and went to bed. Poor Doqz listened to me talk about Chex all day. My roommate drove me to go get him. My friend Jane was . . . well, there. Later.
*hugs all* Thanks, guys. I'm done for now.
JB
I have no idea how to start this. But I've been putting it off, and putting it off, and I really don't think I can anymore.
*smiles* Of course, I've just sat here staring at my rats for a full minute, so maybe I can...
Chex was perfectly calm on Thursday morning. No, wait, start before that.
Chex had been running from me all week--trying to avoid the meds I kept making him take. Wednesday night I decided this was rediculous, and I got him out and just held him for close to two hours. We worked on the computer, and he demanded I scratch his neck. Ran down my arms and butted his head against my typing fingers. I, of course, scratched. He was nothing if not spoiled. He'd been eating birdy bready all week. He LOVES birdy bread. He'd been a little piggie, and I indulged him Wednesday night--not only did he get birdy bread, but he got seed, TOO. He was ecstatic.
Wednesday night I couldn't sleep. I got up and wrote for a long time. I posted here, actually. The next morning all the birds were exausted. Poor Katie kept saying, "Good night. Good night go night night. Good night, Katie-bird." I put Chex in his little travel cage, and left the room.
I think Chex already knew he was going to die. I think he'd already said his good-byes to the others. Emmy and he normally scream at each other; this time, they each gave a little chirp once, and that was all.
I got him in the car, and he mustered his energy and said bye to me, too--we played the 'I'll sing half, then you sing half' game all the way to the vet. He was preening when I left.
I nearly had a panic attack driving away. I kept thinking, "I didn't say good bye to him! How will he know I'm coming back?" Over and over again. I finally imagined how I would have said good bye, and that I could always call the vet when I got to work and tell them to say "Jenna will be back later"--the birds know who 'jenna' is, and they know what 'be back later' means. But I calmed down, finally, and didn't do that. I don't regret that--Chex knew.
The vet cleaned him up for me, and wrapped him up so that I could see his little face, but nothing else. She even got all the antibiotics off his face, so that his feathers were soft. She put him in a sock, in a box, which I'm going to wrap and take home. T hat way, if my luggage gets searched in customs they'll just find one of several boxes.
I learned that Chex was always the bird at night who made all the fuss. Now, when I turn the light out, the 'tiels are quiet. They don't hiss and carry on until they get settled.
The flock dynamic has already changed. Kris and Fetti sit on the higher branches, while Emmy is relegated to the lower ones. Emmy is carrying on Chex's tradition of folding the papers back.
Maelie e-mailed me, and was talking about how he'd been learning cards and eating potato chips at my housewarming party. I'd forgotten that, but I think I might have a photo of Maelie teaching Chex cards somewhere...At least, I think I remember seeing one.
Chex, by the way, is in the photo I put on here of me and the three birds. He's the little gray one.
I've got pages filled now of things I remember Chex doing. Whenever I think of him, I imagine him with his wings just slightly away from his body, all his feathers flattened down, crouching just a little bit as he sings. He was always singing.
Bry got me really really drunk Thursday night. I made Chex a farewell dinner he would have loved, drank half a bottle of wine and half a pitcher of beer, and went to bed. Poor Doqz listened to me talk about Chex all day. My roommate drove me to go get him. My friend Jane was . . . well, there. Later.
*hugs all* Thanks, guys. I'm done for now.
JB