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 Pet Personalities

Pets are interesting creatures. Just when you thought you had them all figured out, they go and do something to totally knock you on your ass.

For instance, I've got a little Chihuahua (Jameson) and a big ol' tomcat (Leopold.) These guys get along great together, and sometimes they duke it out like valiant titans. Leopold will grab Jameson and bathe him, sometimes against his will, but he's never turned away from a free bath.

Yesterday, I had to take Leopold to the vet for a suspected urinary tract infection. Let me preface this by saying, Leopold hates traveling. He doesn't like going in the car, and he certainly isn't interested in getting crammed into a pet carrier to go in the car. However, once J and I corralled him into the carrier, Jameson got visibly upset, like where the hell do you think you're taking my cat?!? He starting whining and pacing and as we walked out the door with the cat in tow, Jameson was standing up in the window watching carefully. I was half expecting to see his little mouth open up in a howl. He was literally concerned for his cat. Or... maybe he was just jealous that the cat was getting to go somewhere and he wasn't.

When Leopold came home a few hours later and slinked out of his carrier, Jameson was on him like flies on shit, sniffing him, and licking him, just giving him a general once over to make sure we brought home his cat. It warmed my sappy little heart to see the dog express such concern over the cat. It made him seem like an actual little person, covered with hair.

One more interesting little anecdote... Jameson came in contact with his first infant on Monday. My new little nephew was over visiting grandma when J and I went over for dinner. J tried to get Jameson to look at the baby, and he seriously wouldn't make eye contact with him, he just kept turning his head. Seems pretty standard, I can't blame him. Later on however, curiosity got the best of him. The kid was sitting in his bouncy seat and Jameson just couldn't help himself, he crept over, tail wagging to try to get a good look at this kid and sniff him out. He didn't try to hurt him or piss on him, he just wanted to know what was going on.

I have to give the little dog props. I thought for sure he'd be a baby hater, but he seemed to do well with his first instance. Hopefully, he'll like the one has to live with in a few months just as much.

On Registering for Baby

Since our baby shower is now impending, and invitations are going out next week, it was probably about time to register for baby boy Dresden's needs.

Let me just tell you... registering for a wedding is much more fun than registering for a baby.

First of all, I have no idea what the hell this child needs. There are so many different options are far as clothes and bottles, teethers, etc. I couldn't tell you the difference in sizes of clothes, I mean, what does 3T mean? Shit, a newbie like me needs a life coach for this sort of thing.

While browsing through onesies and little outfits for the kid, I became infuriated look at what was available to a little man. Everything has zoo animals on it or some stupid ass saying, like "Mommy's co-pilot." Who thinks of this shit? What if I want my boy to wear solid colors?  GOOD LUCK! I did end up caving in an registering for some items with some sort of critter on them. Finding some decent socks for a newborn is damn near impossible. I'm not pushing sports propaganda on my son and I don't want him wearing giraffe prints or zebra prints, or whatever the hell else. I just wanted him to have some simple, white crew socks. NOT AVAILABLE! It's like the baby clothing marketing people are plotting against me and they think babies should just wear nothing but cutesy shit. What if I want my kid to look like a tiny little grown up person? I mean, I'm sure he wants to look respectable out in the world by wearing a solid color onesie and a nice solid pair of pants, not some ridiculous panda outfit.

Another conundrum I ran across was asking for the basic things, like a stroller, car seat, high chair, that sort of thing. I have no idea what's the highest rated and safest, what's garbage and what. Luckily, my sister-in-law did all the heavy lifting on that front since she just had her son last month, so I could straight up copy off her registry. I can't believe how much some of this stuff costs, by the way. I feel guilty even asking for some of this stuff. I don't want my family and friends to think I'm some high falooting bitch asking for this expensive stuff. For example, the stroller I've requested is $300! However, it's like the Optimus Prime of strollers. It's got a car base to strap into your backseat and leave, it's got a detachable car seat which starts out as an infant carrier and morphs into a regular car seat as the kid gets bigger, options galore I tell you. The stroller itself folds up for easy traveling. Well shit! Sign me up.

I'm think I've covered the basics of what I need for this kid. If I should have forgotten something, well, I suppose I can always send my dear husband out to the store to grab it, or maybe leave the kid home with him after a few weeks and get it myself. With about 3 more months to go, I'm totally aware, that I'm going to be some person's parent very, very soon, and it's horrifying. I'm sure it's nothing like being a pet parent. Though when my little Chihuahua was up all night with a fever this past fall, I was up with him, worrying, and trying to comfort him and the second the vet opened I called to get him in there to make sure he'd be okay. I guess you could say my little furry/feather companions have given me some pretty good practice to level up and actually take care of a person.

On Lyrics that Resonate

On my way in to work this morning, I decided some Jeff Buckley was in order. It's a melancholy, foggy morning with rain threatening... RAIN in January. Yes folks, we had ourselves a thunderstorm last night into this morning if you can believe it. Temps near 60 today and tomorrow and... down to 20 by the end of the week. Classic.

In any case, I was listening to "I know it's over" originally by The Smiths and some of the lyrics stuck out:

If you're so funny, then why are you on your own tonight?

And if you're so clever then why are you on your own tonight?
And if you're so very entertaining then why are you on your own tonight?

It's so easy to laugh it's so easy to hate,

it takes strength to be gentle and kind,
over and over and over.
It's so easy to laugh it's so easy to hate,
It takes guts to be gentle and kind

I'll be honest, I can be a catty bitch, but the first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem, right? So, while I recognize that I can in fact be catty, I'm trying to reform myself into a nicer person. This does not relegate me to being a door mat, but I do see that maybe sometimes I could be a little more tender hearted toward people. I wouldn't go so far as calling this a "New Year's resolution" since it's practically February, and nobody cares about resolutions anyway, so I'll consider it a "Life Resolution."

On a side note, yesterday I had my first ultrasound, the sex determining ultrasound, and I'll admit that in the morning before work, I talked to my gut, trying to sweet talk the kid into showing us its garbage so we could refer to it as a he or she rather than it. I'm not gonna lie, I felt like an idiot talking to my gut, and the cat and dog looked at me as if I were a fool.

I'll you what though, I think the sweet talking worked because J and I found out we're having a perfectly healthy little boy. I already feel bad for him though, because I think the boy is going to be stricken with his mother's turtle-like upper lip. Sorry kid.

On Happiness

There is a handful of things, ideas, people that make me happy, but it seems like the idea of happiness always fades does it not? Whether it seems like a cop-out or not, my pets always make me happy. They're so unconditional, with the exception of my parrot, he can be a hateful little prick. Though, to his credit, he does warm up my heart when I'm uncovering his cage in the morning, and in his pitiful little bird voice he says Hello. I know he's probably not actually saying hello to me, but in my groggy state, I like to think so.

Then there is my fluffy little cat. He used to be a standoffish bastard, he'd come near you, on his terms, or when he wanted to eat. He can be an awful little brat, especially when food is concerned, but he also makes me laugh my ass off when he gets that crazy look in his eye, pins his ears back and runs bat-shit crazy through the house, possibly stopping to ninja kick someone. I do believe that since he had some life-saving surgery, he's changed his tune and he's much sweeter now. He likes to at least be in the same room as J or I unless of course there is a thunderstorm, thunder really gets his goat. He'll take naps with the dog, give him baths, even sit on the couch with us, as long as we don't touch him. He definitely makes things interesting.

And then there is the baby of the house. He can also be a little shit, for instance, he loves feces, any kind of feces will do, if it's in the yard or in the litter box, he digs it. He loves to roll in it, the smellier, the better in his opinion. He enjoys sneaking into the basement and marking or leaving a little turd for one of us to find. Otherwise, you can find him passed out on the couch. I mean, this dog is the laziest Chihuahua I've ever met. I love him because he digs the outdoors. Going for a walk in the woods? He's down. Hammocking on a warm summer day? Let's do it. Camping in the National Forest for the weekend? Okay! There isn't much this little guy won't do. It also doesn't hurt that he's a little cuddle-bug.

Even when I'm feeling down in the dumps, it's comforting to know I've got these guys at home to keep me company and just hang out with me when I'm feeling a bit blah. The dog also reminds me to stop being a selfish asshole and get over it because he needs to go out for a walk.

On Day Six

But first, this special message: I am going to be one of those people and announce that today is my cat’s birthday. Dr. Leopold Francis Brandywine is turning 5 today and he couldn’t give a crap. This morning, his brother, Jameson plopped down next to him on the couch and gave him a birthday spooning.

On to today’s topic: My Favorite Superhero and Why. Damn, I feel like I’m writing a short essay for English class. Can I be honest with you for a moment? First of all, I’m a woman, I’m in my late (gasp) twenties, even though I am a huge nerd, I don’t give a shit about superheroes.

Though, I suppose if I had to choose one, I’d have to go with Wonder Woman. When I was a little girl, she was pretty bad ass. She ran around in her skimpy outfit with her bangin’ accessories fighting crime and speaking to the animals. I always imagined what it might be like to whip my boomerang tiara at someone, or snag someone in my own lasso of truth. Of course, being a kid, and gullible, the truth didn’t mean much to me. I mostly wanted to grow up to be a hot, tiny waisted, big hipped bad ass who could pull off running around in a body suit. I like to think that I can speak to animals like her, but the truth is, when I try to carry on a conversation with my pets, they look at me like I’m the dumbest person in the world.

So, who is your favorite superhero?

On Pets

Every day I'm feeling incredibly lucky to have such amazing animals in my life. These two are my rescues and they are just the most lovable guys. They also amaze me by how well they get along together, like two peas in a pod. They nap together, play together, sit together, and look out for each other when one of them doesn't feel good. I've had Leopold (the cat) for just over three years, and Jameson for almost two years. It didn't even take them very long to adapt to each other when Jameson came home. It was as if they were meant to be.

I don't want to leave out Paco, my parrot. Paco is special because he's been around my entire life, and then some. My mother brought him home when my brother was just a kid, and he's currently 36. Paco is odd in that he's forged bonds with cats. Not just any cats mind you. The first cat I ever got was when I was 11 years old. This cat was my best pal, he was always right where I was. It was also about the same time I befriended Paco since he didn't really seem to like either of my parents. My cat was laid back, didn't have a care in the world, so I thought I'd introduce him and Paco to each other face to face. When Paco saw that the cat never meant him any harm, he fell in love. He followed that cat where ever he went, he preened him, and got jealous when anyone touched him. Well, I had to put that cat to sleep about four years ago and Paco was just heartbroken, no more tweets or twitters escaped his beak. My parents brought a new cat into the house, but he just didn't bond with her, or the next one that came in. When I moved out on my own, I Paco came with me, and I decided that it might be time for a cat in my house. Well, I met Leopold and I knew immediately he was the cat for me. Sure enough, he shares a lot of the same characteristics my very first cat did, and Paco has fallen in love with this cat as well.

Animals have always enriched and been a part of my life. I've always had Paco, and I've always had a dog and as I've said, got my first cat at 11. For me, I can't just have one or the other, I'd like to think I'll always have a cat and a dog. I feel like, since I'm working a lot, I don't want to leave just a cat home alone or a dog home alone to be bored and lonely. I know that if they have a companion while I'm not there, they won't be completely lonely. Or maybe I'm just nuts and they don't care either way.

I just enjoy watching their interactions and their mannerisms, the way they play, the way Jameson has doggie dreams, or the way Leopold will wake me up by sitting right next to me on the bed staring me in the face. I love them for the laughs and the companionship and the way they know if something is wrong or if my husband or I don't feel well, they'll stick by us. They are amazing creatures and I'm glad to have met them.