Sweet Pea

warming up on the cold afternoon he flew through our opened window three years ago

Barry and I said goodbye to Sweet Pea* this afternoon.

I know it's silly, but I have to say it: He was part of a very happy little family.

I can't begin to express how good this tiny, beautiful bird could make us feel. He weighed only one and a half ounces, but he knew how to sing and dance, he knew how to play and just maybe he knew how to make us laugh.

We were pretty inseparable, except for vacation trips and ordinary excursions outside our building (Still, we both occasionally fantasized being able to walk around anywhere with Sweet Pea on either of our shoulders). For over three years he sat and acted up in his cage at the side of our table, and if we were going to be anywhere else in the aprtment for a while, we'd move him there.

He didn't seem to miss anything that was going on around him.

He ate when he was hungry all day long, but around dinner time he waited and then seemed to make a big point of scooting down the side of the cage and eating the moment we turned the lights low and sat down. On some level he seemed to understand that meal's importance to the whole flock.

He sang back to all the birds in the garden, and to the sound of running water (a huge flock of parakeets?).

He loved Mozart and he loved Miss Kittin.

The inevitable consequence of our great affection for this blithe spirit is the grief which follows his absence.

We thought we were going to be bringing him back home when we set out for the veterinarian today.

Sweet Pea had been fighting a liver disorder, probably cancer, for several months. After we talked to the doctor this afternoon, Barry and I were forced to realize not only that there was nothing more that could be done for him, but that we couldn't let him suffer the increasing pain that had already almost totally replaced such great joy.

Right now I'm sitting at the table in a breakfast room which had been kept so very alive by a lttle bundle of green feathers. Yeah, carrying away the empty cage was a killer.

*
This is the spelling Barry uses. I've just noticed for the first time that Barry and I have been typing the name differently for three years. Oh well, spelling rules came late in our language anyway, so we shouldn't stress over this stuff. Although I may adopt his mode from now on, since I've done a number of posts about our little friend in the past you'll have to use "Sweetpea" if you're searching my site.