I never thought I would have a bird for a pet. I thought they were noisy and messy, and kind of just a high-maintenance decoration. Bigger birds I thought were cool, but noisy and messy, AND they bite! So, I thought, no birds for me.
Last August my sister Beth asked if we would bird-sit for a couple of weeks while they were vacationing. About eight or nine years ago, a friend of theirs found a cockatiel outside in a tree, and it just stepped nicely onto their finger. Beth adopted "Buddy." I never paid him much attention when we visited her house; in fact, I didn't get too close when he was out of his cage because she said he might bite. But bird-sitting for two weeks didn't seem like too much to ask, and we agreed.
At first I was happy to just let Wes and Connor be the bird-sitters and bird-entertainers. But as I observed, I began to develop a bit of affection for the little character. He could do the "wolf" whistle, and I was quite flattered when he did it to me! He could also whistle "Dixie!" Who knew a noisy little mess-maker could be so talented?
About a week into Beth's vacation, I got an email from her asking if we might like to consider adopting Buddy. She was planning to get a job in the fall, and no one would be around all day. That would make Buddy sad. She said that he was very social and liked being around people. If no one was home, he'd be cooped up in his cage all day and would get depressed.
Dave and Cory were on a week-long backpack at the time, so Wes, Connor and I talked about it. Wes and Buddy really seemed to hit it off, so I told Wes that if we did it, he would have to be the caretaker. He totally agreed. We figured Buddy was about nine or ten years old, and cockatiels can live to about 25. Hmm, I thought, I'll be how old when this bird dies? Let's just say, retirement age. :)
The idea grew on me, and I began to worry about what Dave would say, but I was surprised to find that he was open to the idea. So Buddy joined our family. For some strange reason, Cory became Buddy's favorite person. Strange, because Cory didn't particularly like him and was annoyed by him. Every time Cory would come into the room, Buddy's entire body language would change. He would whistle non-stop and open his wings. So entertaining!!
Who needs a dog when you have a watch-bird??? We always knew when someone pulled up to the curb or when the garage door opened because Buddy was sure to let us know. Squawk, squawk, squawk!! And when the phone rang, it became a double ring, because Buddy imitated it exactly!! Hilarious!
Last Monday morning when we took the cover off the bird cage, we knew there was something wrong. Buddy sat there panting, not moving, and barely opening his eyes. Wes and I left right away to take him to the vet, who told us that Buddy was a very, very sick bird. He said he could have been sick for a long time, but we never knew because birds are very good at hiding illness. They do that because in a flock, they would be kicked out if they appeared sick or weak. The vet said he could hospitalize him, put him in an incubator and give him oxygen and antibiotics and force-feed him ($$$$$$$$), but that he would still have a very small chance of surviving. We had to make the painful choice to have him put to sleep.
I never thought I would own a bird, and I certainly never thought I would love one. But I loved Buddy.
