It’s still winter, and winter is the time of hibernation and death. At least it feels that way to me.
I lost both of my parents, and one of my cats, in the fall/winter season.
In Vancouver, this also feels a bit like spring, the season of renewal. Vancouver, unlike most of the rest of the country, has a very mild climate through the winter. Enough so that February generally feels like spring, and we are already thinking about gardening.
And I can’t help but think about the fact that mere days ago I was looking at little Gizmo and thinking “Spring is just around the corner, the warm weather is on the horizon and your corner will be bathed in warm sunlight again, you can start to grow those battered feathers in and you will feel better.“
But now his life is sort of in a holding pattern, and spring seems a million miles away.
It’s day by day.
He went to the hospital yesterday afternoon….”fragile” was the description. They quickly put him into an incubator with heat and oxygen and asked me to wait.
I waited, in a little room, reviewing his long life and anticipating the worst.
Thinking about the emptiness that the future holds.
I’ve had a pet my entire life…from the day I was born there was an animal in the house…..when this little devil vacates….it will be the first time I am pet-less.
Dr. MacDonald is the best bird veterinarian in Canada, and owns the only avian only vet clinic in the country.
When she came in to speak with me, I knew it was bad.
She was honest and clear.
“…He doesn’t look good, give me a blow by blow of the past few days, what foods does he love, what can we give him that he might eat to try to keep up his strength….he’s a really sweet little bird…you’ve done an exemplary and admirable job with him…not many his age….” and so on
I went downstairs, to the store below. A pet store dedicated to birds. I bought a big bag (because there are no small bags) of an expensive specialty, fruit and nut based, food that he has been enjoying the past few weeks, particularly the banana chips…and brought it back up to the clinic and said “..this, he currently seems to really like this…particularly the banana chips…“
I then went back to waiting.
Eventually the technician brought an estimate to me…..”yes, of course, whatever it costs…welfare, quality of life, first though, the rest…I don’t care…“
I left, empty travel cage in hand, and tearfully drove the long trek home.
He is in good hands, there aren’t many avian vets, and we have the best in Canada here in the Lower Mainland. An amazing woman who has dedicated her life to the care and well being of birds. I first met her in 1991, a lifetime ago, when I worked in a pet store in the West End. She was a client, so were some of her volunteers. She opened her clinic in 1990. Ball-park two years after Gizmo hatched…a year or two before he came to live with us.
She called last night, at around 8pm.
Fluid on his heart, and in his abdomen.
Heart failure.
A few potential options, but also the worst case scenario. We can try a diuretic, a few clients have had some success with their macaws…”glass half full…sensitive to client’s wishes….“
….me…..”…welfare and quality of life first…..my emotions second….I trust your expertise completely….”
A few minutes after I hung up she sent a short video with the caption “Banana chips are a hit” and there was the little nutbar, frail looking, but nibbling away on a banana chip.
A shitty night’s sleep….wondering how he is doing.
Some tears at 2am.
Some tears at 5am.
Some tears at 6am.
Some tears at 7am….
You get the idea….
On the upside, he boards at the clinic from time to time, so it’s not new to him. He does like new people, so it’s not terrifying for him either. He’s warm and cared for; he is in the right place, the best place he can be.
This morning…waiting…knowing they don’t answer the phone until 10 am at the earliest, and no phone call overnight or before that.
I call at 11 am. Geri answers and goes to check on him.
“He’s sleeping. He’s still in the incubator, he’s warm and on oxygen. Dr. MacDonald performed another ultrasound this morning and the fluid on his heart and in his abdomen has decreased, he’s eating some bananas. I don’t think he’s ready to go home yet…..”
Me….”Oh, I didn’t think for moment he’d be coming home today…..I’m just hoping he might come home….”
Geri….”Well, that’s what we are working towards….”
He’s still in this world.
I don’t know for how long. He’s been on borrowed time for a few years, and he is truly old for his species.
It was so discombobulating to me to not give him his medications this morning. To Kirk to not make his breakfast. To not hear the ‘tink tink’ of his beak and nails on the cage bars as he travelled around the inside and outside of his massive cage….his ‘palace’.
When we bought this cage we brought it home, assembled it, and put him inside. With the door open I said…..”I think we need a bigger bird…”
It was ridiculous.
The cage was built for a cockatoo…a macaw….not a Senegal.
But it worked, and he made it his own, and he knows every inch of that cage.
And when home, the door is open and he has full freedom to roam inside and out. He’s never been space constrained.
I cleaned his cage today and considered the future without him. I’ve always known it would eventually arrive. A parrot, even a small one with a relatively short lifespan compared to that of a macaw, is a long commitment, and it’s not an easy commitment to make.
But we did, and it’s been an interesting journey.
And the fact that it is nearing its end, be it tomorrow or in a year, deeply saddens me.
He’s a fixture in our lives and I don’t think either of us really realized quite how much.
The house has been quiet today….and empty….
We went for a walk to get out of the house to get some air, distract ourselves, and get away from looking at an empty cage….but still…all I could see were the images of emptiness, the end of life, and new beginnings…
I’m not sure where to find Gizmo in all of that.
So that’s where we are currently at.
