It’s a sad week around here. On Saturday, we lost Margarita, our Quaker parakeet. She was older than my son at nearly 28 years old, and was my first “baby.” I first got her when I was still with my ex-husband, and had hand-fed her for a few days because she was still being weaned, she was that young.
A couple of years ago, I think she had a stroke, because she stopped “talking.” She used to have a very extensive vocabulary, but she no longer used it.
Then, a couple of weeks ago, she started having issues and developed “stargazer syndrome,” where her head was practically frozen in a position where she would look over her shoulder, and she couldn’t eat or drink on her own, although she’d take liquids from a syringe for me if I held her wrapped in a towel with her head positioned correctly for feeding.
I talked to my vet, who said there were several possible causes, but at her age to bring her in there and run tests might actually stress her out so much it could kill her. So to start with hand-feeding her and bulking up on nutritional supplements, which I did. Every few hours, much like when my Baby Bird really was a baby.
We thought she was improving, with the hand-feeding. She was even trying to eat seed on her own again, between hand-feedings. Then I noticed late Friday she wasn’t pooping the way she had been. Saturday I couldn’t get her to eat. Saturday evening, I was talking to her and she made an odd little noise. I noticed she was breathing funny and so I got her out and put her in my lap on her towel, and she passed away moments later.
The last words my sweet Baby Bird heard me say to her was what a good baby bird she was, and how much Mommy Bird loved her.
Yesterday, Hubby and I took her to the vet to get her privately cremated, and her urn will take its place next to all the others of our furbabies who’ve gone on to the Rainbow Bridge. I hope she started talking again when she arrived, to the ones whose names she used to say. I hope she’s flying with Pickles, Grandaddy’s Quaker who passed away last year and was younger than her.
She was so intelligent, and such a sweetheart. She made us laugh and gave us nearly three decades of love. I haven’t taken down her cage yet. I think I’ll need more Xanax for that.
This picture isn’t the best one of her, and I took it about a week ago, but my older pictures are buried somewhere and I just don’t have the energy to go find them. There’s so much I want to say about her and it all just hurts so much right now.
She was the bestest Baby Bird, and beautiful, and part of my heart and soul feels like it’s been ripped out and shattered. It’s always hard to say good-bye, but especially so when a furbaby’s been part of your life longer than your bio-child.
Fly free, Baby Bird. I’ll see you again one day.
Fly free, Baby Bird.