A couple nights ago, late Monday night I think, our parakeet George died. We've had him for about five years. The poor bird, everytime anyone approached him (except for my mom) he'd almost cower in fear, terrorfied of almost everything around him. Every few days he'd be happy and chirping noisily, but for the past year, he really hadn't said
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I cried and buried Boru, too. I also was the one who wrapped up most of the others....
Nothing wrong with any of it.
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Want a chinchilla?
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