Bird

Bird is gone and there's a little hole in my heart.

She went missing last night, at least 12 hours ago. Lately she's been expanding her horizons, flying all over the house, including the upstairs. The night before last, my husband found her in the upstairs bathroom, on the kids' toilet seat, waiting for a ride home. She had lost her way.

Last night there was lots of coming and going, combined with a malfunction in the garage door, which leads me to believe she might have gotten out that way. I haven't heard her chirp or sing since then. If she's gone, then I hope that's what happened. I'm suffering a vague anxiety that I'm going to discover her little dead body somewhere...

I loved that little Bird.

When she came to live with us, four or five years ago, I was a reluctant pet-mom. We had promised to buy our eldest child a pet if she brought up her grades. And since many of us in this family are allergic to fur, a bird was the natural choice. When the grades came up, I was forced to keep my promise. Thus, Bird came to live here.

She is (was?) a little white and blue parakeet. Initially her name was Cloud, but that never really suited her. So we called her Bird. Sometimes it was Birdie. Or Stinkerbelle, or Bad Girl. It all depended on the state of our affection at the time and whether we had been bitten or not. But we always loved her.

She started out a very shy little bird. She perched in her cage and wouldn't move. The first time we saw her shift her weight from one little foot to the other, it was newsworthy. A big event. We worked hard to train her to sit on a finger, and to talk. But she never talked. Instead, we started making bird sounds. And that was the turning-point. When Bird realized we spoke her language, she really came around. She began chirping excitedly when we entered the room. Eventaully she learned how to let herself in and out of her cage, and she would fly over to perch on top of a head or a shoulder, just to see what you were doing. She loved to peck at fingers on keyboards. But my purse was her favorite hang-out. I would see her little tail sticking out of my purse as she buried her head deep within to peck at my checkbook or comb.

Lately she's been wreaking havoc. She came to realize that papers could be knocked off tables and counter-tops, much to her amusement. Photos could be removed from the fridge. Toilet paper could be unrolled. You always knew when Bird had been busy rearranging the house.

And now she's gone.

I don't think she's coming back.