On Friday January 30th, 2009, I took my best friend, my beloved Quaker parakeet, Corkey to the vet. Our regular vet was not working, due to surgery, so I set up an appointment with the local vet. Corkey had developed a lump in his chest area, and I was concerned. He was acting totally fine, eating well, playing, singing, his poop was normal…there was no sign of illness at all, just a lump. As far as I could tell, there was no pain associated with this lump, but I still felt a need to have him looked at. They say with birds, you have to move quickly, if something appears wrong, because they hide illness so well, I did not want to waste any time. Corkey was born March 4, 1993. He came to me at about 8 weeks old, he quickly became the love of my life. Corkey was so much more than just a bird…he was my child, my best friend, my rock and over the last almost 16 years, my reason for being alive.
I went through severe female problems, during his baby years, and a total hysterectomy followed. I wanted to have a baby so very much, and all that emptiness and love I felt, went into my little green friend. At about three months old, Corkey looked at me, and clear as a bell, he said, “hi.” Ever since that day, my sweet baby never stopped talking and singing. He was my world.
I bundled him up about 3:30pm on Friday and off we went to the vet. I talked to him, all the way there, reached my finger in his little travel cage, stroking his head, telling him it was going to be ok, and whatever it was, we would get through this too, together.
The vet examined him and explained she wanted to put a needle in his chest, to draw some fluid from the lump to study it, and find out what was wrong. She took my baby to another room. I waited and waited, after some time, I was in the hallway, and she walked by, I looked at her and said, “I am freaking out.” She said that he was fine, but they had some problem getting the blood to clot in the two areas where the needle went in. A bit later, she brought Corkey back to the room we were in. I opened his little cage and petted him, he seemed different. I asked he why he was acting so odd…she said he was confined for the test and didn’t like it. She gave me some antibiodics, explained to give them twice a day, and on Sunday, to begin using a warm compress on the area. She felt he had fallen and injured himself and it would get better.
I brought Cork home, the second we walked in the door, Pepper and Toby (the other two birds) squawked and greeted him, Corkey squawked back to them, seeming to say, “I am home,” I got him back in his caged, and everything seemed ok. I fed him a little bit of apple from my hand, and checked every few minutes, to make sure there was no blood on the bottom of the cage, from the injection sites. The last time I checked my dear friend was about 1am, I peeked in, with a flash light, he was awake, I told him I loved him, and covered him for the night. Little did I know, this would be the last time, I would see him alive.
I woke up Saturday morning, about 7, it felt strange, because I didn’t hear Corkey. I went to his cage first and opened the blanket…I looked at his little sleeping perch and he wasn’t there. My eyes looked all over the cage, and I couldn’t see him, until my eyes looked down, to the bottom of the cage. My sweet baby, lying on his side on the bottom of the cage. Dead.
I fell to my knees in tears. He could not be dead, he was suppose to live at least another 15 years. I wept. I walked around the house, crying and whimpering. I went back to his cage, many times, looking as tears of the deepest pain I have ever felt in my life, rolled down my face. I took a soft towel and reached in, wrapping it around his little body and took him in my hands, gently stroking his beautiful green feathers, saying, “Corkey, please wake up, Mommy needs you.” He didn’t move. At this point, I knew, he was dead.
I arrange to have a necropsy done, the drive was about two hours, I packed Corkey up and a friend of mine also came, as we drove to see why he died. The place we went to was an exotic animal hospital, right away, I was blaming myself for my baby’s death, because I should have brought him here to be checked on.
The doctors there were very kind. Corkey was examined and everything was very normal, except for the fact that he was showing some signs of liver disease and that the place were he was stuck with the needle, didn’t clot. He bled to death, internally from the needle.
They gave Corkey back to me, in a white box, with a pink hear sticker on it. I brought him home, to make final arrangements for his little body.
I could not even think about the funeral on Saturday, because every thing inside me, screamed with pain. When I walked in the door..I didn’t hear my dear friend, for the first time, in almost 16 years, I wept.
Corkey’s funeral was Sunday. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.
Every time I look at his cage, I cry. I leave for work and do not hear him, saying, “Mommy gotta go to work.” I cry. I hear songs he used to sing, I cry. I see a random feather of his, floating through the air, anything I seem to do, involving any “normal” routine, kills me inside, because my dear friend was so engrained in every activity of my life. Even closing the living room curtains, because I always would look over and talk with him, as I did this.
I don’t hear his little voice saying, “I am ready to go night, night.” He used to tell me every night, when it was time for him and his two brothers to go to bed. His little, fun songs do not fill the air anymore…instead, it is quiet. One of his favorite songs was “You are my sunshine” He really was my sunshine. “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy, when skies are grey. You’ll never know, Corkey, how much I love you…” (he never did learn the last line to this song, maybe because he knew, what it would do to my heart, if he was ever taken away from me.
I reflect in my mind, that it wasn’t my fault, that I did the right thing, taking him to the vet. Perhaps that, his life ending like this, was best and most peaceful for him. I still cannot help but realize, if I had not acted so quickly, if I had not taken him to an inexperienced vet, if she had not put the needle in a lump. If she had known it was not safe to stick a needle into him…my dear baby would still be here, singing and happy.
