Deanna
New member
- Jun 25, 2007
- 730
- Media
- 7
- 0
- Parrots
- Mojo the magnificent Maximillian Pionus; Cecil the clowny Senegal; and, Timothy the shy, fearful Parrotlet
My trip and Sailor (this will be longāand probably contorted) ā¦
Ok, so I am leaving for Denver (to my parents) on Thursday afternoon. My meeting with them (and possibly my sister/her family) will be the first time since Sailorās (Parrotletās) death.
Iāve mentioned on the forum that I owned my own business (requiring 24/7/365) for three and nearly Ā½ years. During that time, I felt that Sailor was not receiving the attention that he needed. My nephew (of my only sister) is an animal lover through and throughāIMO he was born to be a vet or biologist. Working somewhere where animalās welfareās were involved. Anyway, so I talked extensively with him and his mother about the possibility of them taking Sailor in to offer him a good, loving home with more time than I had to offer. Everything was set. (Or, so I thought). (There was one SPOKEN stipulationāwhen my nephew couldnāt or wouldnāt care for Sailor, Sailor was to come directly home to me, no ifs ands or buts).
January 4th, I took Sailor over (250 miles) to my nephew and it was love at first sight. (That truly, truly eased my troubled heart). In the ensuing days, Sailor, very rapidly, plucked himself naked (except his head). Now, where my sister lives, resides the BEST avian vet in the entire state (I, or we all, should be so lucky as to have a competent, caring vet 15 minutes away!!!)āI begged her (from my home 250 miles away) to take Sailor to him, he needed immediate medical attention. She disregarded me and took Sailor to her own vet āthat knew a littleā about birds. He dxād Sailor with Giardia and put him on Metronidozole (Now, as a side note, being where I live, I know multitudes about Giardia and that was NOT the proper dx). I tried my hardest to open up my schedule, but was unable to make a trip to go get him until January 24th. I rushed as soon as I could and got himāit was MY mistake to not take him to that avian vet; by my estimate we would make it home (that same day) to see my own avian vet who had been aprised of the situation and was expecting us. Sailor died 30 miles from my hospital. My husband said Sailor was doomed long before I went to pick him upāI just donāt know.
I was a wreck for a long while after Sailor passed. I do not know the cause of his passing; we buried (or, I should say, I performed a blessing and had my husband bury him) him in the strawberry patch at the front porch. I buried him with an amulet offering safety in passage and his favorite bell.
I still get shook up when I think about this. But, this is the reason I write. My trip to my parents may very well put me face to face with my sister with whom Iāve not spoken to since Sailor died. ā¦Actually, I made two good faith attempts to contact her at the very end of January; since then, though, weāve not either one of us made any attempt to communicate.
So ā¦ while this trip is about my father, my worry for him and his well-being ā I fear any kind of confrontation with my sister. It is volitile at best with her.
Rest in Peace baby Sailor. He was only two years old. He was so very, very personable and I taught him how to talk. He would talk me to slumber during my afternoon rest times between appointments. God, I miss him; and, I blame myself tremendously.
Ok, so I am leaving for Denver (to my parents) on Thursday afternoon. My meeting with them (and possibly my sister/her family) will be the first time since Sailorās (Parrotletās) death.
Iāve mentioned on the forum that I owned my own business (requiring 24/7/365) for three and nearly Ā½ years. During that time, I felt that Sailor was not receiving the attention that he needed. My nephew (of my only sister) is an animal lover through and throughāIMO he was born to be a vet or biologist. Working somewhere where animalās welfareās were involved. Anyway, so I talked extensively with him and his mother about the possibility of them taking Sailor in to offer him a good, loving home with more time than I had to offer. Everything was set. (Or, so I thought). (There was one SPOKEN stipulationāwhen my nephew couldnāt or wouldnāt care for Sailor, Sailor was to come directly home to me, no ifs ands or buts).
January 4th, I took Sailor over (250 miles) to my nephew and it was love at first sight. (That truly, truly eased my troubled heart). In the ensuing days, Sailor, very rapidly, plucked himself naked (except his head). Now, where my sister lives, resides the BEST avian vet in the entire state (I, or we all, should be so lucky as to have a competent, caring vet 15 minutes away!!!)āI begged her (from my home 250 miles away) to take Sailor to him, he needed immediate medical attention. She disregarded me and took Sailor to her own vet āthat knew a littleā about birds. He dxād Sailor with Giardia and put him on Metronidozole (Now, as a side note, being where I live, I know multitudes about Giardia and that was NOT the proper dx). I tried my hardest to open up my schedule, but was unable to make a trip to go get him until January 24th. I rushed as soon as I could and got himāit was MY mistake to not take him to that avian vet; by my estimate we would make it home (that same day) to see my own avian vet who had been aprised of the situation and was expecting us. Sailor died 30 miles from my hospital. My husband said Sailor was doomed long before I went to pick him upāI just donāt know.
I was a wreck for a long while after Sailor passed. I do not know the cause of his passing; we buried (or, I should say, I performed a blessing and had my husband bury him) him in the strawberry patch at the front porch. I buried him with an amulet offering safety in passage and his favorite bell.
I still get shook up when I think about this. But, this is the reason I write. My trip to my parents may very well put me face to face with my sister with whom Iāve not spoken to since Sailor died. ā¦Actually, I made two good faith attempts to contact her at the very end of January; since then, though, weāve not either one of us made any attempt to communicate.
So ā¦ while this trip is about my father, my worry for him and his well-being ā I fear any kind of confrontation with my sister. It is volitile at best with her.
Rest in Peace baby Sailor. He was only two years old. He was so very, very personable and I taught him how to talk. He would talk me to slumber during my afternoon rest times between appointments. God, I miss him; and, I blame myself tremendously.