I apologize for the length of this but I just have to share it somewhere and this is the only place I know it will be understood and and accepted...
This story is about Christmas eve a few years ago. When my mom's ego killed one of my parakeets.
To set the stage: My family inherited a budgie (parakeet) from a kind old lady that lived across the street and passed away while we were petsitting the bird. She raised dogs and spent virtually no time with this bird. I don't know the story of how she got him. But he is very pretty budgie and if he was from a pet store he'd stick out and probably be picked first- he's white, grey, and splotches of blue. Because he hadn't been given attention, he was completely silent and sat in his swing, staying still. Let's call him #1 for clarity later in the post.
Anyway, my family didn't have much interest in #1 past feeding him. I was shocked to see the bird in my family's living room because even though I did housework for the lady, I didn't know she had a bird! I fell in love with this little guy. She hadn't even named him and simply referred to him as "Pretty Boy". I felt tremendous pity for him- even though I knew zero about budgies, he seemed traumatised and too quiet (hell, he didn't even chirp). I spent two months with him, every day, holding my hand flat in his cage with seeds on it and gradually got him to stand on me, eventually getting him out of the cage. He became loud and spazzy, a total bundle of joy. He loves being on people's hands, giving them "kisses", singing back to you with whistling, repeating phrases, and flying from one person's head to another. As you might expect, if you pull out a saltine cracker, #1 will think you are a God. Years later, and he's still that way.
I claimed ownership of #1 because my family didn't really seem interested- They enjoyed the shit out of interacting with him, but whether his cage and water dispenser were clean and filled daily was my concern and self-proclaimed job. I'd buy whatever supplies were needed and do the rather hard job of trimming his nails and beak. But my mom would often feed #1 early in the morning because I usually wasn't up early- to claim I wouldn't feed him. And she would buy more food for him before it was really needed, just so she could claim I didn't buy food for him. She would also tell me that because "everyone" enjoyed the bird and he was in a family room to be around more sound, that he belonged to everyone. It infuriated me to no end but there wasn't anything to do about it. They reaped the fruits of my hard work to socialize him but didn't take care of him. Not their pet!
Well... One fall, I decided that since budgies are social and I managed to train one with zero experience, maybe it was time for a second one. I found a lady giving hers away for a small adoption fee, and brought it home. It was solid yellow, and had kind of a cranky-old-man personality. We'll call him #2. He had a funny habit of putting one foot on a perch and another on the side of the cage (like a split) and rest his head on the cage while he slept. But he was a whole new ball game for me. I never could train him, but after a few months he was in the same cage as #1 and he would take food from you at the sides of the cage. I felt some what successful and happy to have given him a new home.
Some more background (bear with me): One of my sisters is a flying monkey. Big time. Her obsession is adopting tons of animals and progressively ignoring the older ones for the new ones. She has rats, a frog, a dog, and one surviving cat (thank God the numbers have gone down). She no longer cares for the dog or cat except bathing the dog once in a while- but if you bring up adopting them out to new homes she'll snarl that they are hers. Guess who feeds them? Nmom. Pets are a huge Nsupply for my Nmom because they love no matter what, and overfeeding them gives her some kind of high. ANYWAY- to the point- my family has two other cats- a grossly overweight tomcat that no one will claim but no one will give away- and an elderly female who is the picture perfect, well-behaved housecat. My FMsis's cat is tiny, skinny, inbred, has feline AIDS, throws up on furniture every time she's inside (I swear she needs constant meds but FMsis does not care), and is an absolute BITCH to other pets despite the rest of the animals getting along just fine.
Nmom lets the dog inside every day (there was another but she refused to put him down and let him choke to death on vomit), and lets all the cats inside, despite the cats not getting along and my Edad spending several separate Summers making the tool sheds comfortable for the animals (he installed windows, pet doors, heaters, beds, everything). The pets have an acre to roam and a covered porch, not at all cramped. Oh and the kicker? My Edad is allergic to both cats and dogs but my Nmom insists on them all sleeping in their bedroom (the pets are on the bed when my parents aren't).
As you might guess, the old housecat didn't bother my birds because she's smart enough to take cues from us humans and enjoys her newfound life indoors (she spent the first half of her life as an outdoor cat). But FMsis's reglected, retard excuse for a cat? That little fucker tried to eat my birds 3 out of 4 times she was inside. Basically a daily occurrence. I would repeatedly put the cat back outside or move the bird cage to my room- which made my mom throw tantrums ("You're punishing me by taking the birds!" "Do you really want to deprive the birds of all the sound and activity in the living room?", "They're everyone's birds!", etc).
Then it happened. Early Christmas eve one year, my mom let the scrawny, possessed little shit inside. And went back to bed. No one else was up, why should they be? The cat pulled the cage down and mortally wounded #2 before anyone could run to the living room and salvage the situation. I was woken up and told what happened my my other little sister who felt sorry for me and relayed what my mom told her- that the wound "Wasn't that bad.", but I knew better. Budgies are tiny, and any wound inflicted by a cat is a death sentence. I was pissed but kept a blank expresion and demeanor. I didn't even want to see the bird- because not even an emergency vet could do anything even if it WASN'T Christmas Eve. I didn't want to trigger rage and sobbing by seeing him dying.
I stayed in my room until I decided to shower- unfortunately, of the three showers, only my parent's shower was available. The lock on the bathroom doesn't work so I wasn't guaranteed privacy, but at this point I said to myself, fuck it, I just need to wash off. Halfway through my shower, Nmom needed to use the sink so she let herself in. After a few moments, she says "I'm sorry.". I didn't reply with "It's okay", because it wasn't- this was the result of ignoring common sense and people voicing concerts for years. I didn't reply with "I know", because sorry means you make efforts to not repeat the mistake and I knew she wouldn't. She just wanted me to excuse her and feel sorry for her. So after a moment and making a very hard decision, I just said "I think we need to find a new home for the birds." in a calm voice. She flipped her shit, scoffed, and yelled "I SAID I WAS SORRY!", slamming the door as she left the bathroom. (gee, you were really ASKING for forgiveness, weren't you?)
Through the day #2 got too weak to stand on the perch and fell to the bottom of the cage. Younger sis (not the FM one) got a box with a towel in the bottom and put him in there, then brought him to my room where I put a heat lamp over the box. My boyfriend got off work around then and came over to comfort me. I held #2 a few times and the wound was even worse than I thought. I set him back down in the box as my boyfriend watched, and he gave me a big hug. That's when I started sobbing. In the next few minutes I checked on the bird again, and he had passed. I'd say a higher power kept him around long enough for me to grieve and say goodbye, but I don't believe in that, and I didn't want him to suffer that long. #2 never bonded to me like the other bird, but I wanted him to have the best life possible and I failed him. I buried him in a showbox with eDad a few days later at the very back of the yard by a tree a few days later when enough snow had melted.
This last September I moved out to live with my boyfriend. It wasn't to spite my family, I just couldn't handle being an emotional punching bag anymore. I left while everyone but FMsis was out for breakfast, packing whatever I could from my room before they got back. Pet fees at apartments are rediculous and I knew it would cause even more drama if I took #1, so I left him. Funnily enough, my Nmom FINALLY did something to keep him safe- AFTER I was gone. She put him on top of the refrigerator. Why was that so fucking hard before?
I miss those birds. One is dead and the other doesn't understand why I'm gone. But as a budgie, I like to think he doesn't think about it enough to be sad. I only hope that if he needs a vet, my family will give him that (they're bad about only giving vet care if my mom deems it an emergency... Even then, she let an old obess dog die slowly over a year instead of putting him down) ... I've since moved over 3 hours away so I can't check on him even if I wanted to be in that stressful home again. I'm so sorry, little guy. I am so sorry.
Submitted July 01, 2015 at 10:44PM by bloodynutter http://ift.tt/1LV9va0 raisedbynarcissists
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