![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
I am in Freeport tonight, in town for Allie's nineteenth birthday party. The party was very nice. Afterwards, though, I looked in on Kirsten's budgies, Walter and Pigwidgeon. Walter was exhibiting classic symptoms of sickness, all fluffed out and listless and almost unresponsive to my touch. He just lay in my hands when I pulled him out. I took him out of the cage he shared with Pigwidgeon and put him in another cage with food and water, but he wouldn't touch it. About thirty minutes after that, he fell off his perch and couldn't get back up. Which, of course, is a very bad sign.
I took him out of his cage and held him in my hands, trying to get him warm. We tried to give him water from an eyedropper, but he wouldn't open his beak even a little. I held him for awhile, till we contacted an emergency vet clinic over in Rockford. They said we should bring him in, so, even though it was after midnight, Mike and my dad and myself got in the car, me still holding Walter, to head over there. He died on the way, just before we reached Ridott Corners.
Walter was always one of my favorite budgies, ever since he was mine and I called him Baby. He was so funny and cute and sociable during his short life. He had an expressive voice, and he loved to fight with his mirror. He was always at the bottom of the pecking order with the other birds, but we all loved him very much. I got to hold him as he passed away, and he wasn't lonely or cold, and I guess that's something. We'll bury him tomorrow in the backyard, in a pretty cardboard box wrapped with tissue paper.
I took him out of his cage and held him in my hands, trying to get him warm. We tried to give him water from an eyedropper, but he wouldn't open his beak even a little. I held him for awhile, till we contacted an emergency vet clinic over in Rockford. They said we should bring him in, so, even though it was after midnight, Mike and my dad and myself got in the car, me still holding Walter, to head over there. He died on the way, just before we reached Ridott Corners.
Walter was always one of my favorite budgies, ever since he was mine and I called him Baby. He was so funny and cute and sociable during his short life. He had an expressive voice, and he loved to fight with his mirror. He was always at the bottom of the pecking order with the other birds, but we all loved him very much. I got to hold him as he passed away, and he wasn't lonely or cold, and I guess that's something. We'll bury him tomorrow in the backyard, in a pretty cardboard box wrapped with tissue paper.
