Our Beloved Parakeet suffered Seizures and Died - Her Mate and Family Grieves
jim...@yahoo.com
Henri (Henrietta-green and yellow female) has been a member of our
family for 8 ½ years. As a baby bird, we named her "Henry" after
one of the green engines from the Thomas the Tank Engine series, while
our son was still a little boy. Henry turned out to be a girl, but we
kept the name.
She passed away yesterday several hours of seizures and fighting for
her life. My wife, Cindy and I couldn't find an emergency avian vet
anywhere on a Sunday to return our calls. We are somewhat new to this
area (northeast MA) and wrongly assumed that local avian vets would
respond to the emergency numbers on their message machines. We spent
aggravating hours leaving messages and waiting for return calls that
never happened. We called local pet stores, but they had the same
phones numbers as we did. The animal hospitals within wide range did
not have an avian vet on duty. I believe that Henri probably
wouldn't have survived anyway, but we were willing to do whatever was
necessary to save her. Today, I am typing through tears feeling
compelled to describe what happened.
Henri and George (2 1/2 year old white and blue male) have lived
together in the same cage we keep suspended from the ceiling in the
living room. George and Henri absolutely adored each other. Henri was
like a mother to George, and took to him immediately. We let them out
during the day, and cover them at night. They always stayed close to
the cage, and got plenty of exercise. One of the many games we had
with Henri was saying "Fly Henri, Fly!" She'd get all excited and
do couple loops in the room and then return to the top of her cage.
Although neither bird would talk like people, George could softly say
Herni's name in a question sound, "Henri?"
The night before last, about 4am, my wife and I awoke to a loud
distress call from one of our two parakeets in the living room. It was
a horrible lower pitched sound that I haven't heard before. Sometimes
George will have a panic during the night, but this was different. It
was a steady, loud and fast CHIRP CHIRP CHIRP CHIRP CHIRP . My wife
said "That sounds like Henri!!" I quickly went into the living
room, called to the birds, turned on a light, lifted the cover and
discovered them both on the bottom of the cage, instead of their usual
perching spot during the night. In a panic, they flew out of the cage.
George went up to his usual spot on the curtain rod, but Henri went
straight down to the floor. She looked totally frightened and
disoriented.
I bent down, put my finger out and said "Step up, Henri", but she
flew forward, crashed into one object, and then another like she was
blind. I followed and called out to her as she kept flying aimlessly.
Now I'm worried that she'd have a heart attack from being pursued,
or injure herself by flying into a wall. After I was able to cup my
hands around her to escort her back to her cage, I noticed that her
little heart was beating very fast. I placed her onto the perch in the
cage, George returned, and I covered them back up. I talked calmly with
them for a few minutes, all seemed normal and I returned to bed. I
remember telling my wife, "It's like Herni was flying around
blind."
About a half hour later, we again woke to the loud, fast and steady
CHIRP CHIRP CHIRP CHIRP CHIRP. This time we both sprang out of bed. We
removed the cover, opened the cage, George flew out, and Henri remained
in the cage, continuing this horrible sound. My wife took Henri out,
and talked soothingly to her, but now Henri appears to be having a
seizure. I gave my familiar "charge" whistle and few other whistle
sounds she was familiar with over the years, and she stopped squawking
for about a minute or so, and then the attack returned. She was
squawking loudly and her whole left side was spasming. Her heart was
pounding while her left wing and foot were twitching uncontrollably.
The phone calls for emergency assistance started, but without success.
We took turns holding her, making sure to keep her warm. George
reacted by watching from the curtain road and occasionally swooped over
us, and squawked while looking at Henri the whole time. We all felt
completely helpless.
This agonizing episode continued for hours as we held her. Henri kept
squawking loudly, her body and head twitching, but little by little she
was getting weaker. She hadn't responded to our voices since her
first seizure. We held her, talked to her; put a cue tip with warm
water up to her beak while her tongue dabbled at it. We allowed George
some alone time with Henri on top of the cage, while he chattered at
her and preened her feathers. She looked completely disoriented, moving
in circles. This was heartwarming behavior from George, but very tough
to watch, with the reality that we going to lose her.
Again, Cindy and I held Henri, while we continued all morning trying to
get emergency assistance. After 1pm, Henri became quiet for a while, as
Cindy kept him nuzzled against her shoulder. While Henri looked more
relaxed, I told her it was ok to go to sleep. Then in a last burst of
energy, she squawked, and began flapping her wings furiously as though
she regained consciousness. Cindy said soothingly, "Fly, Henri,
Fly". Henri relaxed and all the energy left her body. As she took her
last breath, Cindy again said "Fly Henri, Fly."
After regaining my composure, I let George see Henri's body, gave him
some alone time with her on top of the cage and I'm sure that helped
him understand what had happened. He was defiantly grieving. He nudged
her body a few time, chattered and squawked angrily, and gently preened
her feathers. A few times he'd be silent, and then said "Henri?"
as though asking a question. We gave George plenty of attention for the
rest of the day, and I stayed in the living room last night with him
for a while after covering the cage and talked to him.
This morning George is very quiet, sits in one spot and blinks his
eyes. He's not dive bombing me like he usually does, playing with his
toys or flying at all. I talk to him, he moves his head to show he's
listening, says "Henri?" now and then, but that' about it.
I am not intentionally trying to portray George's reaction as being
human, however his behavior since Henri's death has changed, and I
interpret this as his way of grieving.
Additional information regarding Henri's seizure and death
shows there was no diarrhea or vomiting. She continued passing stools
normally until she died. During her last hour before death, her tongue
was no longer responding to the water drops.
I don't know what killed her, but we'd like to find out.
I continually question myself about what I could have or should have
done differently. If I had left her alone when she flew out of the
cage, could that have prevented the seizure? I don't know, but I my
instincts told me to get her back in the cage so she wouldn't hurt
herself by crashing into something. We painfully learned that we need
to have a plan in place for our pets, if they should ever need
emergency care that isn't during animal hospital business hours. The
system that we thought was in place, failed. Once I recover a little
more emotionally, I will contact these vets that didn't return our
calls. Again, I don't know if there's any thing they could have
done for Henri, other than make her more comfortable. Under a vet's
care, we would have been willing to do that.
I appreciate those of you who took the time to read this. Henri was
part of our family and she is greatly missed and will be always in our
hearts and prayers. Yesterday was our son's 13th birthday, and he
had to leave the house by mid morning to deal with this in his own way.
Since 9/11/2002, he almost expects something bad to happen on his
birthday. This didn't help. We tried to make his birthday cheerful
for him the best we could, but it wasn't easy. We plan to get George
another female parakeet, but right now, I'm not sure how long to
wait. This is a grueling experience and I welcome questions or
comments.
Again, thanks for reading.
Jim
Wayne Boatwright
> Henri (Henrietta-green and yellow female) has been a member of our
> family for 8 « years. As a baby bird, we named her "Henry" after
> one of the green engines from the Thomas the Tank Engine series, while
> our son was still a little boy. Henry turned out to be a girl, but we
> kept the name.
Jim,
It's always hard to know what to say at times like these. Losing anyone you
love is heartbreaking and tragic, and leaves a huge void that takes a long
time to fill. With almost every loss, be it a pet, family memeber, or
friend, we often feel as though there was something else we should have done
or said. In reality, we usually have done absolutely all we could.
I'm so sorry for your family's loss. I hope your days are brighter very
soon.
--
Wayne Boatwright *¿*
____________________________________________
Give me a smart idiot over a stupid genius any day.
Sam Goldwyn, 1882-1974
jim...@yahoo.com
I'm sure I stressed her out during the pursuit, but I was afraid she'd
fly into a wall and break her neck. It was like she had no control over
where she was flying, and she wasn't flying well at all. It was a real
effort for her. Her heart was beating so fast when I caught her. My
guess is that this whole pursuit lasted under 2 minutes, but I'm not
feeling good about possibly causing her a heart attack, if that's what
happend.
Thanks for your kind words, Wayne. That helps me cope right now.
K2
You should find the nearest emergency veterinarian & keep the phone # and
directions handy in case you ever need veterinary care in the middle of the
night. www.massvet.org - you can find a veterinarian & search for emergency
vets in your area.
Kim
<jim...@yahoo.com> wrote in message
news:1126544712.8...@g43g2000cwa.googlegroups.com...
jim...@yahoo.com
Thanks for thoughts and providing me this link.
I will go through it and see what emergency care
might be available. This time I will call before there is
an incident and find out what the plan is during weekends and after
hours.
Wayne Boatwright
Jim, one last thought to remember...
We do what we think is best at those crucial moments. After the fact, we
agonize over whether we should or should not have done them. In most every
case, whatever we did or didn't do would probably not have altered the
outcome. Try very hard not to blame yourself.
When I was a child of 10 or 11, my parents bought me a blue parakeet. A
couple of years later I won a lime colored parakeet at the Cotton Carnival
in Memphis. My parakeets shared a cage and played and flew together.
Their cage was kept in our breafast room. One evening at dinner, we heard
a thud. When we looked around we discovered that my lime colored parakeet
had literally dropped dead off his perch. There was absolutely no prior
evidence of illness. It took me years to get over that, as it was very
traumatic to me. A few years later, we were moving to the UK and could not
take my blue parakeet with us. I gave her to my best friend. She lived to
be nearly 14 years old! I think that's a ripe old age for a parakeet, but
I might be wrong.
Just as with people, we never know when someone will be taken from us, or
what the circumstances of their leaving will be. Coping with our loss is
sometimes very difficult.
A few years ago I had to make a decision to have my cat put to sleep. She
had been suffering with chronic renal failure. I realize now that it was
the kindest thing I could have done for her as she was declining rapidly.
Still, even now with that knowledge, I often think I should have done
something different.
It's very nard...
Take care of yourself and your family...
Best regards,
--
Wayne Boatwright *¿*
____________________________________________
Okay, okay, I take it back! UnScrew you!
Noon Cat Nick
with, both human and animal. Parakeets, parrots, canaries and other
avian creatures rank among the most loving and devoted of companion
animals, and suffer tremendous grief at the loss of a companion.
Unfortunately, there is a dearth of literary tributes to these cherished
creatures. While other noted authors write poignantly of cats, dogs, and
other bereaved pets, few have put pen to paper to eulogize their beloved
winged friends.
So I offer to you the one work I know of which speaks lovingly and
mournfully of these gentle, loyal, loving companions: "Poor Matthias,"
Matthew Arnold's paean to his canary, first published December 1882.
Poor Matthias!--Found him lying
Fall'n beneath his perch and dying?
Found him stiff, you say, though warm--
All convulsed his little form?
Poor canary! many a year
Well he knew his mistress dear;
Now in vain you call his name,
Vainly raise his rigid frame,
Vainly warm him in your breast,
Vainly kiss his golden crest,
Smooth his ruffled plumage fine,
Touch his trembling beak with wine.
One more gasp--it is the end!
Dead and miss'd our tiny friend!
--Songster thou of many a year,
Now thy mistress brings thee here,
Says, it fits that I rehears,
Tribute due to thee, a verse,
Meed for daily song of yore
Silent now for evermore.
Poor Matthias! Wouldst thou have
More than pity? claim'st a stave?
--Friends more near us than a bird
We dismiss'd without a word.
Rover, with the good brown head,
Great Atossa, they are dead;
Dead, and neither prose nor rhyme
Tells the praises of their prime.
Thou didst know them old and grey,
Know them in their sad decay.
Thou has seen Atossa sage
Sit for hours beside thy cage;
Thou wouldst chirp, thou foolish bird,
Flutter, chirp--she never stirr'd!
What were now these toys to her?
Down she sank amid her fur;
Eyed thee with a soul resign'd--
And thou deemedst cats were kind!
--Cruel, but composed and bland,
Dumb, inscrutable and grand,
So Tiberius might have sat,
Had Tiberius been a cat.
Rover died--Atossa too.
Less than they to us are you!
Nearer human were their powers,
Closer knit their life with ours.
Hands had stroked them, which are cold,
Now for years, in churchyeard mould;
Comrades of our past were they,
Of that unreturning day.
Changed and aging, they and we
Dwelt, it seem'd, in sympathy.
Alway from their presence broke
Somewhat which remembrance woke
Of the loved, the lost, the young--
Yet they died, and died unsung.
Geist came next, our little friend;
Geist had verse to mourn his end.
Yes, but that enforcement strong
Which compell'd for Geist a song--
All that gay courageous cheer,
All that human pathos dear;
Soul-fed eyes with suffering worn,
Pain heroically borne,
Faithful love in depth divine--
Poor Matthias, were they thine?
Max and Kaiser we to-day
Greet upon the lawn at play;
Max a dachshound without blot--
Kaiser should be, but is not.
Max, with snining yellow coat,
Prinking ears and dewlap throat--
Kaiser, with his collie face,
Penitent for want of race.
--Which may be the first to die,
Vain to augur, they or I?
But, as age comes on, I know,
Poet's fire gets faint and low;
If so be that travel they
First the inevitable way,
Much I doubt if they shall have
Dirge from me to crown their grave.
Yet, poor bird, they tiny corse
Moves me, somehow, to remorse;
Something haunts my conscience, brings
Sad, compunctious visitings.
Other favourites, dwelling here,
Open lived to us, and near;
Well we knew when they were glad,
Plain we saw if they were sad,
Joy'd with them when they were gay,
Soothed them in their last decay;
Sympathy could feel and show
Both in weal of theirs and woe.
Birds, companions more unknown,
Live beside us, but alone;
Finding not, do all they can,
Passage from their souls to man.
Kindness we bestow, and praise,
Laud their plumage, greet their lays;
Still, beneath their feather'd breast,
Stirs a history unexpress'd.
Wishes there, and feelings strong,
Incommunicably throng;
What they want, we cannot guess,
Fail to track their deep distress--
Dull look on when death is nigh,
Note no change, and let them die.
Poor Matthias! couldst thou speak,
What a tale of thy last week!
Every morning did we pay
Stupid salutations gay,
Suited well to health, but how
Mocking, how in congruous now!
Cake we offer'd, sugar, seed,
Never doubtful of thy need;
Praised, perhaps, thy courteous eye,
Praised thy golden livery.
Gravely thou the while, poor dear!
Sat'st upon thy perch to hear,
Fixing with a mute regard
Us, thy human keepers hard,
Troubling, with our chatter vain,
Ebb of life, and mortal pain--
Us, unable to divine
Our companion's dying sign,
Or o'erpass the severing sea
Set betwixt ourselves and thee,
Till the sand thy feathers smirch
Fallen dying off thy perch!
Was it, as the Grecian sings,
Birds were born the first of things
Before the sun, before the wind,
Before the gods, before mankind,
Airy, ante-mundane throng--
Witness their unworldly song!
Proof they give, too, primal powers,
Of a prescience more than ours--
Teach us, while they come and go,
When to sail, and when to sow.
Cuckoo calling from the hill,
Swallow kimming by the mill,
Sparrows trooping in the sedge,
Starlings swirling from the hedge,
Mark the seasons, map our year,
As they show and disappear.
But, with all this travail sage
Brought from that anterior age,
Goes an unreversed decree
Whereby strange are they and we,
Making want of theirs, and plan,
Indiscernible by man.
No, away with tales like these
Stol'n from Aristophanes!
Does it, if we miss your mind,
Prove us so remote in kind?
Birds! we but repeat on you
What amongst ourselves we do.
Somewhat more or somewhat less,
'Tis the same unskilfulness.
What you feel, escapes our ken--
Know we more our fellow men?
Human suffering at our side,
Ah, like yours is undescried!
Human longings, human fears,
Miss our eyes and miss our ears.
Little helping, wounding much,
Dull of heart, and ard of touch,
Brother man's despairing sign
Who may trust us to divine?
Who assure us, sundering powers
Stand not 'twixt his soul and ours?
Poor Matthias! See, thy end
What a lesson doth it lend!
For that lesson thou shalt have,
Dead canary bird, a stave!
Telling how, one stormy day,
Stress of gale and showers of spray
Drove my daughter small and me
Inland from the rocks and sea.
Driv'n inshore, we follow down
Ancient streets of Hastings town--
Slowly thread them--when behold,
French canary-merchant old
Shepherding his flock of gold
In a low dim-lighted pen
Scann'd of tramps and fishermen!
There a bird, high-coloured, fat,
Proud of port, though something squat--
Pursy, play'd-out Philistine--
Dazzled Nelly's youthful eyne.
But, far in, obscure, there stirr'd
On his perch a sprightlier bird,
Courteous-eyed, erect and slim;
And I whisper'd: "Fix on *him!*"
Home we brought him, young and fair,
Songs to trill in Surrey air.
Here Matthias sang his fill,
Saw the cedars of Pains Hill;
Here he pour'd his little soul,
Heard the murmur of the Mole,
Eight in number now the years
He hath pleased our eyes and ears;
Other favourites he hath known
Go, and now himself is gone.
--Fare thee well, companion dear!
Fare for ever well, nor fear,
Tiny though thou art, to stray
Down the uncompanion'd way!
We without thee, little friend,
Many years have not to spend;
What are left, will hardly be
Better than we spent with thee.
K2
are all staffed 24 hours & all vets learned about birds - they could keep
one comfortable if they could not fix the problem.
Kim
<jim...@yahoo.com> wrote in message
news:1126581540.8...@g43g2000cwa.googlegroups.com...
glsu...@neptunelink.com
Jim, I am so sorry for your loss. There is not much help I can offer,
not being familiar with birds or how avian vets work. But from your
story, I don't think there is anything else you could have done. You
did the best you could under difficult circumstances. Talking to the
vets now and putting a plan in place for the future sounds good,
although, like you, I am not sure the vets could have done anything.
I'm sure George is, indeed, grieving. I have had grieving pets after
losing one myself, and each grieves differently, but each does, in
time, heal. And so do we humans.
My heart goes out to you.
Blessings,
Ginger-lyn
Home Pages:
http://www.spiritrealm.com/summer/
http://www.angelfire.com/folk/glsummer (homepage & cats)
http://freepages.genealogy.rootsweb.com/~summer/index.htm (genealogy)
http://www.movieanimals.bravehost.com/ (The Violence Against
Animals in Movies Website)
jim...@yahoo.com
Your'e the best. Thanks again for encouragement
during this extremely difficult time.
George is starting to come around, but it's obvious to me that he's a
very lonely bird. He looks like a lost soul.
I had a long talk with George again last night, reminded him of how I
feel, and how I think he feels, etc. I talked about how Henri has been
called back to Heaven, much the same way I think I'd explain death to a
young child. Geroge was more focused on my words more than I think
I've ever seen him. I covered his cage and stayed up with him for a
while. He perched himself so that he could see me sitting on the couch
through an opening in the cover. Before Henri passed away, I don't
recall George ever doing that.
Someone else in this forum empahasised the importance of talking to a
grieving pet. It really does make a difference.
George looked totally lost this morning, and I didn't feel good about
leaving him alone, but we had jobs and school to go to.
While driving the 7 miles to work, thoughts of Henri during the final
hours continued to hurt me like a knife. I thought about turning
around, thinking I'd fall apart if someone cared enough to ask why I
missed work the day before. Driving the back country roads with the sun
coming up, I screamed "Fly Henri Fly!!!" as loud as I could, thinking
maybe she could hear me. All in vain of course, but I felt better
afterward.
I made it through work today but it felt like I was in a vacuum of
depression. I had the empty feeling that no one at the work place can
relate to this type of experience. "Yup, that's right folks. All this
over a bird." The subject never came up.
I couldn't wait to get home to check on George. Later this afternoon,
I was the first one to arrive home. As I approached, George greeted me
with loud happy chirps before I even turned the front door knob . I was
very excited to see him too. The problem remains, however that he is
very lonely.
I'm grateful for this forum consisting of sensitive, quality human
beings as you have shown yourselves to be. My guess is that most anyone
outside this forum would think I'm totally nuts.
Since a little time has elapsed, I'd like to directly respond to a few
of your comments while offering a few more descriptions and thoughts
while the tragic event was happening, beginning with a recap:
Saturday Night, Henri is fine. Plenty of energy and good appitite.
Sunday 4am - Attack #1
My dilemma:
I could have left her alone giving her time to calm down, knowing I was
risking her having a heart attack in her present paniced state, if I
continued to try and catch her. Instead I chose to catch her and
return her to the cage.
I'm still struggling with this and it absolutely haunts me. I wish I'd
let her sit and left her alone for a bit. Could that have prevented the
second attack? I'll never know.
Note: Usually there's always a little night light in the room, but it
was off for some reason. I thought this may have contributed to the
night-panic attack, which I hoped it still was until the 2nd attack
convinced me otherwise.
Mistake #2 - I'm kicking myself for not staying up to observe Henri
after I placed her back in the cage, knowing this experience was
extreme. Could that have prevented the second attack? I don't know.
Attack #2 - 1/2 hour later
For lack of a better word, I'll say that Henri was siezuring when Cindy
took Henri out of the cage. Other than the brief calming when I
whislted to her, she was completely unresponsive to us or George. She
was squawking in a way that tore me to pieces, with her heart pounding.
Her left wing and foot were twitching, her head was twitching and
turning to one side. Her body temperature increased as time went on,
her squawkes became weaker and her feathers were puffy until she died
hours later.
What vet we could reach said "We don't treat birds". When no one else
responded, I had thoughts of putting her to sleep myself. Maybe
drowning or sufficating would be more merciful than what she was going
through.
I couldn't do it. I wanted to believe that God would take her on His
time table, and I needed to have faith. At 11am, well after Henri had
lost much of her strength, a pet store about an hour's drive away
offered to euthanize her, but said we couldn't be in the room with her.
Again, we couldn't do it. We felt that Henri had already suffered the
worst of it. At this point, she was fading and we wanted Henri to die
at home with us holding her. It felt like the right thing to do.
As difficut as it was,and is for my wife, she felt Henri's last heart
beat.
Thanks again for letting me get this out. You folks are the best.
Looking forward, we think it would be good for George to get a new
bird. He's only two and should have a playmate. It will happen, it's
just a matter of when. Probably soon.
Kim: Thanks again for the contacts. I have a few more leads than I had
before.
Wayne: Your words of comfort are much appreciated.
Noon Cat Nick - Your are so right. I wish I could write poetry like
that!
Ginger-lyn - Our next bird will be named after you.
wes...@laway.net
>Wayne, Kim, Noon Cat Nick, Ginger-lyn.
>Your'e the best. Thanks again for encouragement
>during this extremely difficult time.
>
>George is starting to come around, but it's obvious to me that he's a
>very lonely bird. He looks like a lost soul.
>I had a long talk with George again last night, reminded him of how I
>feel, and how I think he feels, etc. I talked about how Henri has been
>called back to Heaven, much the same way I think I'd explain death to a
>
>young child. Geroge was more focused on my words more than I think
>I've ever seen him. I covered his cage and stayed up with him for a
>while. He perched himself so that he could see me sitting on the couch
>through an opening in the cover. Before Henri passed away, I don't
>recall George ever doing that.
You should get George another female. It'd be nice if he had another
friend to play with.
And you did the best you could for Henri. She's waiting at the Bridge
for you.
jim...@yahoo.com
I saw that too. It is very powerful and touches me deeply.
I still feel like Henri is within talking range.
George is still talking to her. It's a mystery, but If we knew all the
anwers now, there would be no reason for faith.
wes...@laway.net
Henri will always be within talking distance of you. Part of her is
living in your heart, and part of you is in her heart.
Until y'alls meet again at the Bridge, take care. Keep talking to
George and get him another girlfriend ASAP (blue carapace = M.
Tan/brown carapace = F). Birds hate to be alone.
jim...@yahoo.com
I can sense Henri's closeness.
George will go on top of the cage, stay motionless and silent for a
while,
then say "Henri?" then he starts chattering, pauses like he's listening
to her reply,
and repeats the sequence again. It's like she's right next to him.
It is a mystery.
Your right that birds hate to be alone.
George is being introduced to a new mostly yellow, some green
splotches, six to 8 month old (?) so far looks female, bird named
Ginger.
I think Henri will be ok with this. We shall see.
Thank God for the Bridge!!
wes...@laway.net
So glad to hear you've responded efficiently to George's loneliness! I
just hope he doesn't call her Henri! She might not understand! <g>
Good luck with the new keet, Jim!
Best,
Wester
jim...@yahoo.com
with much interest. He kept flying back and forth between the suspended
cage and the curtain rod.
This is the most I've seen him move in days.
He kept slowly moving closer and closer. She hoped on a perch next
to him, and moved toward him. He took off back to the curtain rod,
and started over again. After a while, they settled in next to each
other, playfully bantering back and forth.
Already, he seems to really like her. She's much smaller
than he is, and I was worried he might pick on her.
He stays right next to her, preens her feathers, they beak
wrestle together, and he looks like he has much of his spunk back.
She lets him know when he gets too overbearing.
So far, so good.
He was too lonely to keep by himself much longer.
I still talk to him about Henri, and he looks at me like he's
listening.
Wayne Boatwright
It's a good thing you've done. Life does go on and we somehow survive and
hold our memories of those we've lost. Henri will always be with you.
jim...@yahoo.com
morning.
George is showing off by being a clown on top of the cage and she tries
to keep up with him along the bars on the inside. It looks like they're
having fun.
We are keeping the birds inside the cage with the door closed while we
are gone, and open it back up when someone's home.
Gingers' wings were clipped when we got her, so we put soft things
around the floor for her to fall on when she tries to fly out with him,
and then get her back inside the cage right away.
George and Henri used to get a surge of chatter going, and then they'd
both fly out together, do a few loops and return to the top of the
cage. I can see Ginger following the same pattern already, wishing she
had a full set of wings.
glsu...@neptunelink.com
I am very honored by this. Thank you.
Please try to be gentle with yourself. There is no way to know what
might have helped Henri. She clearly was already ill, and I doubt
anything you did or didn't do before the second attack would have made
any difference. You did the best you could.
I'm sorry you couldn't find a vet that would allow you to be with her.
I feel very much like you do, and want to be with my babies at the
end, and I usually have been, except when circumstances prevented it.
I think it matters to them, I think they know we are there and feel
our love as they leave this life.
I agree with another poster about getting George another companion,
when you feel like you and your wife are ready. You cannot replace
Henri, but you sound like you have such a loving heart, and I believe
that there is room to love again, and to help George.
Here are a couple of sites that might help you out (if I didn't post
them before):
http:www.petloss.com
http://www.lightning-strike.com/
My heart goes out to you and your family.
jim...@yahoo.com
That's before I read through your homepages, which reinforced
the decision even more! I studied Near Death Experiences and read such
books as "Other Wolrd Journey's" by Carol Zeleski (sp?) in College
which gave me new awarenesses of life's mysteries.
The whole experience of Henri's life and passing has been very
significant,
including Georges' reaction, and continued behavior.
Thanks again for everything.
CHARLOTTE MOORE
sorry for your loss. I think of animals as humans, and it is so hard to
lose one. I believe that their spirit will always visit you, and I
believe that they go to Heaven to be with their Creator. We will be with
them again someday when our days are over here. I am trying to cope with
the loss of our "son" at times I just break down, no matter where I am,
we just have to grieve and let it all out.
Smlie :-)) Jesus loves you!
CHARLOTTE MOORE
everything humanly possible to help them, but it was His will that they
die, everything and everybody has a certain day to die, and we have to
accept that it is God's will.
jdep...@yahoo.com
I believe deeply in what you stated.
jdep...@yahoo.com
George has regained his spark that he temporalily lost for a short
while and seems like his old happy self. George doesn't let Ginger out
of his sight, is very protective of her, and sometimes appears
overbearing. She'll take just so much and then give it back to him,
although she doesn't really seem to mind his constant attention. She's
had
opportunities to distance herself from him, but chooses to stay close.
Sometimes during the evening before I cover the cage, George will be on
the other side of the cage from Ginger and chatter very softly. It is
during his "alone" time that he will still say "Henri?". It is though
she's sitting right next to him. It gets to me everytime.
During the day, he is very preoccupied with watching over Ginger. So
far, this combo is working out well!
glsu...@neptunelink.com
Awww, I'm so glad to hear that :-) May both George and Ginger be
happy and enjoy good, long lives.