Sometimes the worst part of a trip is what’s happening at home while you’re gone.
Our lovebird died while we were away. We don’t know why. I thought probably stress — too much change, too many different locations — but my dad said that she’d seemed perfectly happy for the first week, chirping and squawking just like always. I don’t know that it matters. People wanted to talk about it tonight (Easter, so family dinner), but I walked away, I don’t have the stamina to casually chat about what could have caused her death. I would have started sobbing again if I’d stayed.
I loved that bird. She was cranky and mean, she bit and complained and she hated that she was low creature on the totem pole. But she was also lively and spirited and smart and much more full of personality than any creature so small had a right to be.
The house is so much quieter without her.