Itās unfortunate that my first post falls under the bereavement section. Melvin, an Indian ringneck parakeet, has been with me now for just over 8 years. I adopted him at eleven years of age after fostering him for 3 months. His previous owner took exemplary care of him for those first eleven years, but he was starting to become stressed as his owners had two children and a small active dog in an apartment. I had a lovebird, a budgie and two society finches at the time (oh, and a very understanding husband), and offered to foster him until either their home situation settled or it looked like heād like to stay with us. Three months later, we were planning a move to another province and it was decision time. We took Melvin to his previous home, and after some initial snuggles with his previous owner, the dog and kids started running around. Melvin flew to my shoulder, tucked his head into my neck and started repeating, āItās okay, itās okay.ā From that moment on, he was my buddy.
Fast forward 8 years. He has been through two moves, the death of the other birds in my āflockā, the birth of my four wonderful children and has been a wonderful companion the whole time. He has had periods of time where he didnāt get as much one on one time as he used to, and has never gone wild, gotten nippy or resorted to screeching. He has been everything I could ask for in a bird.
Last Friday I received some devastating news. Over the last year I noticed that he has been slowing down ā not flying around the house as much, wanting to climb more, and I thought we were starting the senior years, which I had experienced with my other birds. He also seemed to get out of breath when he did fly. He gradually got worse and worse. This last week he declined rapidly, so I took him to our vet. He has been diagnosed with a terminal abdominal tumor. It is large enough that itās putting pressure on his lungs. His heart and lungs sounded otherwise clear. The vet thought that it was a congenital thing, rather than anything from his environment. She gave me some pain meds to keep him comfortable and we talked about when to bring him back in to be euthanized.
I am having a hard time dealing with this. I thought I would have a lot more time with him. I canāt imagine another bird that would fit our family the same way, and yet canāt imagine not having birds. Every morning I wake up relieved that heās still alive, and yet dreading knowing that one morning he wonāt be. Right now Iām committed to making his last days amazing ā lots of treats, outside time in his travel cage, and all of the snuggle time he wants (heās suddenly gotten very snuggly and wanting lots of head scritches). Our vet called on Monday to check in, and seemed a bit impressed he made it through the weekend. Though he is so sick, he is still incredibly gentle, and being a complete pig when it comes to treats. In fact, he just heard me making a snack for the kids from two rooms away and started calling out, āWant some? Want some?ā just in case I wasnāt getting something for him as well.
Fast forward 8 years. He has been through two moves, the death of the other birds in my āflockā, the birth of my four wonderful children and has been a wonderful companion the whole time. He has had periods of time where he didnāt get as much one on one time as he used to, and has never gone wild, gotten nippy or resorted to screeching. He has been everything I could ask for in a bird.
Last Friday I received some devastating news. Over the last year I noticed that he has been slowing down ā not flying around the house as much, wanting to climb more, and I thought we were starting the senior years, which I had experienced with my other birds. He also seemed to get out of breath when he did fly. He gradually got worse and worse. This last week he declined rapidly, so I took him to our vet. He has been diagnosed with a terminal abdominal tumor. It is large enough that itās putting pressure on his lungs. His heart and lungs sounded otherwise clear. The vet thought that it was a congenital thing, rather than anything from his environment. She gave me some pain meds to keep him comfortable and we talked about when to bring him back in to be euthanized.
I am having a hard time dealing with this. I thought I would have a lot more time with him. I canāt imagine another bird that would fit our family the same way, and yet canāt imagine not having birds. Every morning I wake up relieved that heās still alive, and yet dreading knowing that one morning he wonāt be. Right now Iām committed to making his last days amazing ā lots of treats, outside time in his travel cage, and all of the snuggle time he wants (heās suddenly gotten very snuggly and wanting lots of head scritches). Our vet called on Monday to check in, and seemed a bit impressed he made it through the weekend. Though he is so sick, he is still incredibly gentle, and being a complete pig when it comes to treats. In fact, he just heard me making a snack for the kids from two rooms away and started calling out, āWant some? Want some?ā just in case I wasnāt getting something for him as well.
... As Mark (birdman666) said, every living thing dies... and when it comes to our pets, they are family, like children to us, we wish they could be with us forever. We keep having animal companions despite this... I think it holds true the saying "better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all". This applies to our beloved animals too. Take care, I know the time ahead will be very difficult emotionally.
