On Giving Up

Typically my posts are smarmy and full of humor because I want to make you people laugh, only if it lasts for just a split second of your entire day. So I'll throw this disclaimer out there right now... this post probably won't be humorous, it probably won't leave you feeling jovial on the inside, you probably won't think about something you read here and laugh about it later. It will be downtrodden, and depressing, it will echo the feelings of a forlorn pet owner. If this shit isn't for you, it might be best to stop reading this post right.... here.

For years and years, our family owned a parrot, Paco. My mother met him at the pet store she worked at 30+ years ago and formed a bond with him as he sat at the cash register. One day, she decided to bring him home to join the family. For about the first 8 years of my life, Paco and I were rather indifferent of each other. I knew if I tried to pet him, he would bite my damn finger off. Still, I talked to him, and tried desperately to be friends with him because I found him incredibly interesting for a hateful bird. Paco had a big mouth, as most parrots do, he would screech and carry on and just over all be a noisy bird. This eventually led him to be placed in one of the bedrooms, which would have been fine, but it was the bedroom my dad slept in while he worked mid-nights, so it was dark, and it was cold.

Being the big ol' softie that I am, I brought him in to my room as I spent a lot of time in there and it was the warmest room in the house. A great environment for a warm weather bird, right? Eventually, I wore him down. After spending countless hours with him, reading, playing board games, having conversations, he finally warmed up to me, and we became pals. That is until we got a cat. He fell in love with the cat, and I was yesterday's bitch. Though, through the years, the three of us would hang out in my room, playing board games, the cat swatting away the pieces to be a dick, like most cats are. Paco would grab a piece in his mouth and run away, something he learned from the cat undoubtedly.

We got about 10 years with the cat before we lost him to cancer. Paco and I were devastated. Paco wasn't the same after he lost his cat. He stopped speaking, and just sat there quietly, observing, mourning. Eventually the time came for me to move out. Since Paco and I were still pals, he moved out with me. He was the center of attention, the only child, but still something was missing. While, his quietness was a blessing while living in an apartment, I felt bad that he had fallen in to such a depression. I thought, I'm ready for a new cat, maybe he is too.

Leopold entered the scene and once more Paco was in love, and again, I was yesterday's bitch. Leopold was the center of his universe and he only wanted to be around him. I think Leopold became his mate. He would holler until he got to be with the cat, and when he was with him, he was happy. I should mention here, that we also have a dog, who Paco hated and dive bombed on the daily. He's always hated dogs, big and small, I don't know why. He didn't care how big they were, he'd dive bomb them and bite the shit out of them, he had no fear.

Time passed, and then there was a baby. During the first months of his life while he was immobile, Paco could give a shit less about the baby, until the baby started getting around, then he was a threat. He was a threat to his cat, who the baby adored and wanted to pet. Paco did not want anyone touching his cat and would pretty much peck anyone's eyes out that dared pay attention to Leopold. So, he took some swipes at the baby.

This got to be a problem. I thought... why is he having such an issue? He was around when I was baby and he didn't dive bomb and bite me. Of course, he didn't have the freedom when I was a baby that he had now. Was he jealous? Maybe. I think it mostly stemmed from him wanting no one touching his cat.

After this behavior continued for a long while, it was decided that Paco might be better living with a foster family who didn't have young kids or dogs to incite his anger. This decision was not settled on lightly. Paco and I had been together for 30 years. As much of a dick as he was, he was my family. I found a lovely bird rescue through my vet. The plan was to place him with a foster couple who are members of their bird club and the foster couple might elect to keep him, or he could be adopted out.

This broke my heart. During the time I communicated with the rescue group to the time they found him a foster home (which didn't take very long) I felt an emptiness, a dread that he was going to be leaving. I did learn he was going to live with a very nice couple who had 2 cats and 2 birds. This information helped a little, but I still didn't want my little asshole to leave.

He left for his new home on February 28th. The second I closed the door, I wept. I wept for three days. It's been three months since he's been gone. I get regular updates on his progress and hear he is doing quite well and is happy. He loves his new cats and has made friends with the Macaws he lives with. Which, for a bird who tried to murder his cockatiel friend years ago is amazing. He went to his first bird meeting and was quite convivial. He stepped up on random people's hands and was quite social. The couple he is with now, is the couple he'll spend the rest of his life with.

I'm thrilled he won't be bounced around further. I'm thrilled he's found a new loving environment where he can thrive. However, there's still a huge hole in my heart for him. Part of that hole is missing him, and other part is the fact that I gave up on him. I couldn't give him any more and I had to let him go. I wasn't a good enough bird parent and I couldn't give him what he needed so he was letting me know by acting out and there was still nothing I could do.

It hasn't gotten better in the three months that he's been gone. Sometimes, I still hear him fluttering around, or I'll hear his bell in his cage or some other toy jangling. I haven't had many pets, but I never let any go, they spent their lives with me, and that's what I intended for Paco. He deserved better though, better than what I could ultimately offer, and that's the kicker, I'm a bird parent failure.

I miss him. I think about him often. It feels strange that he is someone else's. It feels strange that he has other cat companions, bird companions, and people companions. It still feels like he should be with me. I haven't felt the same since he left. There's a part of me that's just gone, and maybe that's silly since I'm talking about a bird, but I grew up with him. He got to hear all my tales of woe and teenage angst and all my achievements and happy times when I was younger. He always just listened.

But... the important thing now is that he's happy. He's thriving. He's loving life. That's what he deserves.

On Total and Utter Randomness

I had a couple different topics that I could probably milk and get a couple of blog posts out of, but they seemed so insignificant to merit their own post, except for maybe this news right here:

As some or most of you might know, I am an attempted writer. I do have one fiction book published at the moment, that has remained rather stagnant since its publication in 2011. This year I decided I'd spend a little money and enter it in a couple book festivals, not expecting high results, because, what writer does? My first festival was the San Francisco Beach Book Festival. "Stress Test" did not win any of the grand prizes... however, it did win First Honorable Mention in the General Fiction category. Not such a huge deal to most, but a pretty big deal to me, as its creator who though my first book might very well be utter drivel. This little milestone is quite exciting to me, and almost a week later, I'm still riding the high from it.

This second bit is just a general observation about G-Money. I will preface this by saying, I know my boy is only almost two and things will change for him drastically as he gets older. I brought him over to a school a couple weeks ago to play, his future elementary school actually. One of the many things I like about him is his ability to stand back and observe his surroundings before he dives right in and reacts. There were about a dozen other kids playing while we were there and he cautiously walked up to the playground and kept a safe distance and watched each of the kids doing various things. He stood there for probably about 20 minutes just taking it in. He then started to play on his own, near the other kids, but not trying to play with them. I could see that he was hesitant about engaging them and it brought me back to my own elementary school playground happenings where I'd often times either play alone or with a set group of friends. I was painfully shy throughout all of my school years, and am still very shy, I know how it affected me, and I shudder to think that my sweet boy might take after me in that aspect. On the other hand, I know he's still so young and he may blossom into a social butterfly by time he reaches school. Either way, I just want him to be happy.

This third bit has to do with dating. I was at a bar with some co-workers the other day, having a good time, relaxing, when totally unsolicited a freakishly tall biker man approached me. He asked my name, I told him, he told me his name, he asked if he could hang out (at the bar) with me, I quickly said, I'm married. He was like... "that's okay." Red flag number one. Now, when a woman almost immediately tells a stranger she's married, does that not tell said stranger that she is not interested in talking to him any further? He still persisted. It must have been something about my red nosed, puffy eyed, sick voiced, no make-up personality that really got this guy. Then I was like, look dude, I'm married to this guy's sister (pointing at my co-worker). "Oh, that's even better." Seriously, bro? It took him a minute or two to let it sink in, then he was like, "Oh, so it's like a f**k off kinda thing right?" I stared at him while it set in. You'd think he would of gathered that from the whole, I'm "married" thing. Don't get me wrong, just because I'm married doesn't mean I'll be an asshole and refuse to talk to the opposite sex completely. But, I'm not completely blind, creepy biker man approaches one of only a couple mildly okay looking chicks in a bar asking to hang around after knowing she's married, and to a woman (so he thinks) and won't back down. Man, I can't be a party to that.

See what I'm saying? Three somewhat interesting pieces of information that really do not merit their own post, but it's something to think about. So let me know, any of you have any scum bag stories for me?