sad news
I have no real lead-in to this. Poppy died yesterday while I was at work, and I'm very sad about it. He was one of my oldest friends, and an exceptional bird all around. Sure, there were days he drove me crazy, and a thousand things I didn't do or should have done to make his life as good as it could possibly be, but overall, he was a wonderful pet, full of sass and sometimes vitriol, but also sweetness and cuteness and all the things that make small fluffy creatures fun and lovable.
The good news is that he wasn't alone when it happened. Pete came over to my place yesterday, and noticed that Poppy wasn't really moving around or talking much. He went to see what was wrong, and Poppy put his head up to get scritched and chirped a little, then closed his eyes and went to sleep. And that was that.
Poppy always did like Pete--they became friends very easily, which I find remarkable given how much Poppy hated the rest of the male race. It always made me happy when Poppy let Pete hold him or scratch his head, and I'm glad that even if I couldn't be there, Pete at least was. It's at least a small solace.
The fact that we kind of knew it was coming--that Poppy's health had been failing and he was getting quite old for a bird his size--doesn't really make it any easier. Especially considering that he was chipper and cheerful more or less right up to the day he died--he seemed a little quieter than usual when I left in the morning, but once he woke up properly he still had lots of things to say and chirp about right before I left. It was very musical, and I just wish I had known he was saying goodbye. The rest was still surprising, no matter how prepared I thought I was.
So, for now, farewell Poppy. May your spirit get to wherever it needs to go next safely and easily. I will miss you more than words can possibly say.
The good news is that he wasn't alone when it happened. Pete came over to my place yesterday, and noticed that Poppy wasn't really moving around or talking much. He went to see what was wrong, and Poppy put his head up to get scritched and chirped a little, then closed his eyes and went to sleep. And that was that.
Poppy always did like Pete--they became friends very easily, which I find remarkable given how much Poppy hated the rest of the male race. It always made me happy when Poppy let Pete hold him or scratch his head, and I'm glad that even if I couldn't be there, Pete at least was. It's at least a small solace.
The fact that we kind of knew it was coming--that Poppy's health had been failing and he was getting quite old for a bird his size--doesn't really make it any easier. Especially considering that he was chipper and cheerful more or less right up to the day he died--he seemed a little quieter than usual when I left in the morning, but once he woke up properly he still had lots of things to say and chirp about right before I left. It was very musical, and I just wish I had known he was saying goodbye. The rest was still surprising, no matter how prepared I thought I was.
So, for now, farewell Poppy. May your spirit get to wherever it needs to go next safely and easily. I will miss you more than words can possibly say.