Sunday, May 10, 2009

RIP Hogan

My little green bird died on Friday. Hogan was around 18, a perfect lorikeet (his breed, not his personality). He had never been sick, ever in his whole life, not even a cold, never had a blood test, never had missing or messy feathers. I thought I'd have him long after zombie-bird Lance (now 21) went into the wild blue yonder.
Thursday I gave Hogan and Lance each a corn tortilla. Lance wasn't interested, shoved his tortilla through the grate into the tray. Hogan attacked his, ate some of it, and then decided it was some sort of edible carpet and was sitting on it. He played with it all day.
Friday I got up early because I had a doctor's appointment. Around 7, 7:30 I heard a brief ruckus from one of the birds but it didn't sound serious. I did laundry and then around 8:15 went into to say hi to the birds and Hogan was dead on his tortilla bed. :( He was still warm so I think the noise I heard was him dying.
All I could think was that somehow the stupid tortilla killed him--bound up his intestines or something. I rushed him up to the vet, wrapped in a washcloth, and made an appointment to bring Lance in for his final visit with Dr Giddings, who is retiring.
Saturday the vet who did Hogan's necropsy called and said he was in perfect health...except for his liver, which was FOUR TIMES normal size. Poor little guy. He never acted sick, he was totally himself. His wife, Onnie, died in the fall, and she had a bad liver. Seems like that's what gets lories--liver or kidneys.
Let's do the dead lory rollcall:
  • Scarlett, red lory, kidneys
  • Goober, hybrid red-rainbow, kidneys
  • Zeebo, hybrid red-rainbow, unknown
  • Prism, rainbow lorikeet, liver
  • Guinevere, rainbow, liver
  • Onnie, perfect lorikeet, liver
  • Hogan, perfect, liver
Hogan's demise was not death by tortilla, thank the gods. I don't think I ever would have gotten over the guilt.
Lance is in the huge 18 SF cage by himself. I put him in the clean one (always the plan for this weekend) and moved all the toys and perches and rotated some in that he hadn't seen for a while. He's not fooled at all, though, he still knows Hogan is gone. Hogan was his last friend. My hope had been when I took them for their spring vet visit, I was going to let them play together at the vet and see if they fought. If they didn't, I was going to take the divider out.
I hate death and loss. A year ago I had FOUR lories, THREE cats and a full-time job. Now I have 1 elderly zombie lory, 2 cats and unemployment.
And this is a petty complaint, but only 2 of my 25 fakebook friends (all real friends, people I know in real life) acknowledged the loss of Hogan. And yeah, I spelled Facebook wrong on purpose.

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