my dear, dear roxy.
you were such a well behaved bird. i know you were raised by someone else but you did your best for me. i tried to learn about birds so i could do my best for you too, and most of the time it went fine. you had a nice big cage and a bunch of friends. we even went on adventures together and you sat on my shoulder and didn’t panic.
still, it didn’t matter in the end. and i don’t really even know what killed you. mum said she thought it was because someone contaminated your water. that doesn’t matter either, though. because if i had just gone back home that week before, when i thought ‘oh jeez i should go pick up the birds it’s been ages’ but never went back like i was going to, you would probably still be alive.
after i started full time office work i didn’t have as much time to spend with you any more. but every time i came to check on you, you would hop on my finger and sit there, or sit on my shoulder. you were clearly apprehensive, but you still trusted me. even if weeks would pass between visits, you still trusted me.
it’s a moot point now, and you’ll never see this, but i’m sorry. i wanted better for you. i was going to build you an outdoor aviary at the new house. i never ended up taking you to the lake. and i’m sorry for the time i accidentally rolled the chair over one of your talons and pulled it out. every time i moved the chair while you were in the house, i would check around the wheels for you, just in case. that time i didn’t.
of course i didn’t. the only time it ended up mattering.
i buried you in the front yard, with rocket, next to the kittens that didn’t make it. if you’re anywhere but here, maybe you’re all there together.
maybe you can feel how sorry i am.
stupid me. getting choked up over a bird. no wonder i’m on medication.