Wednesday, November 05, 2008

Poor Onnie (pets)

My female perfect lorikeet is dying. Right now, as I write this.
This morning when I went to feed them, she was in the box. She came out, but she looked kind of puffy. I figured maybe she’d been sleeping. I fed them, she was eating popcorn all happy.
At five of 11, I was in my bathing suit, heading to the gym when I heard an awful “I’m being killed” racket from the bird room. Onnie’s head and right wing were stuck under the grate and she was having a seizure. I couldn’t lift the grate all the way because a perch was in the way but it took two hands to undo the perch, and one of them was holding the grate off her little tiny neck. Eventually I got her off the grate; she fell to the bottom of the cage (what we used to call the “basement” when Gwennie went down there). She was very still and I thought she was dead. Then she got up and found some popcorn and ate it. I changed my clothes like a lunatic, grabbed some popcorn, threw it in a bird carrier and went to get her. She was all limp and dead looking again but when I picked her up she was still alive. Her wings were all droopy. I called the vet and drove their like a maniac. She was eating popcorn the whole way. When I got there, I had to wait for about 15 minutes and I noticed there was blood all over the popcorn but I couldn’t tell from where. Turns out she bit her tongue half off. The vet said her wings weren’t broken and gave her some medicine and said she’d be okay. I wasn’t convinced but I brought her home. She climbed out of the carrier and right up into the perch forest.
I had to go swap a cord for my mom’s cell phone and when I got back she was in the corner, looking dead, barely breathing. If she was Lance (ie, if she liked me) I’d bring her with me in a towel while she left. But since she doesn’t like me I’m leaving her with her mate (who is indifferent to her suffering). She’s wrapped in a washcloth and I’ve got the heater positioned right near where she’s laying.
I feel so awful. I could rush her back to the vet, but he didn’t think she was dying, and he’s the expert. Obviously she was doing the fake perking up thing some animals do. So she’s there dying and I’m here writing and unhappy. That’s two birds and a cat in 5 weeks, plus a job.
When do the good things happen to balance this out? 16 Zac 5 Ben

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