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The boys had been home for several hours before one of them noticed. "What is this?" shrieked ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
tutordennis from the living room.
"What is what?" I called from the kitchen.
"What do you mean, 'What is what?' What is this?" he clarified, with rising hysteria.
"This what?"
"This bird!" He stretched a trembling finger toward his vinyl collection, upon which rested a small cage, with an even smaller budgie inside.
"Oh, that bird. Um..."
Just then,threetimes emerged from the back of the house, assessed the situation, and looked at me expectantly.
"I can explain," I began, with what I hoped was a persuasive smile.
Long story short, we're birdsitting. I've been nannying this summer for a well-meaning but feckless family in Los Altos. They're taking care of the budgies from their four-year-old's preschool class. Now, these birds are just two of many at the preschool, none of whom have names, proper facilities or access to vet care. On my first day, I arrived to find blood all over the cage. The male had what appeared to be a huge open tumor on his leg, and was hopping around on one foot. I pointed this out to the father, who seemed nonplussed, and then I rushed the birds to my own vet. Happily, West Valley Pet Clinic provides free care to schools. Despite the bird's injury, he was quite sweet, and I was crushed when my vet told me that he should be euthanized due to the extent of his disease. His female partner was with him until the end, grooming him and cooing in his ear. The vet said that the only reason the male had survived so long was that the female had been regurgitating for him (I know, I know, but it's a common sign of avian devotion). She's alone now, and misses her partner terribly. The family left a message at the preschool. When they finally called back, one of the teachers said that they didn't care about the bird's death, and not to worry, they'd buy another for the classroom. I have no words for what I think of these people. What are they teaching the students? Life is disposable, and that it's normal to treat other beings as essentially decor for the classroom? When the family went on vacation, they asked me to look after the remaining bird almost as an afterthought. We've started calling her Talulah, and her spunky personality has really begun to blossom. Our birds Elli, Ben and Furn are glad to have her here, and they sing to each other throughout the day. We really don't want another bird, but I hate to deliver her back into what is essentially classroom pet hell. I wish people didn't prove themselves to be vicious and stupid with quite so much regularity.
tutordennis from the living room."What is what?" I called from the kitchen.
"What do you mean, 'What is what?' What is this?" he clarified, with rising hysteria.
"This what?"
"This bird!" He stretched a trembling finger toward his vinyl collection, upon which rested a small cage, with an even smaller budgie inside.
"Oh, that bird. Um..."
Just then,
threetimes emerged from the back of the house, assessed the situation, and looked at me expectantly."I can explain," I began, with what I hoped was a persuasive smile.
Long story short, we're birdsitting. I've been nannying this summer for a well-meaning but feckless family in Los Altos. They're taking care of the budgies from their four-year-old's preschool class. Now, these birds are just two of many at the preschool, none of whom have names, proper facilities or access to vet care. On my first day, I arrived to find blood all over the cage. The male had what appeared to be a huge open tumor on his leg, and was hopping around on one foot. I pointed this out to the father, who seemed nonplussed, and then I rushed the birds to my own vet. Happily, West Valley Pet Clinic provides free care to schools. Despite the bird's injury, he was quite sweet, and I was crushed when my vet told me that he should be euthanized due to the extent of his disease. His female partner was with him until the end, grooming him and cooing in his ear. The vet said that the only reason the male had survived so long was that the female had been regurgitating for him (I know, I know, but it's a common sign of avian devotion). She's alone now, and misses her partner terribly. The family left a message at the preschool. When they finally called back, one of the teachers said that they didn't care about the bird's death, and not to worry, they'd buy another for the classroom. I have no words for what I think of these people. What are they teaching the students? Life is disposable, and that it's normal to treat other beings as essentially decor for the classroom? When the family went on vacation, they asked me to look after the remaining bird almost as an afterthought. We've started calling her Talulah, and her spunky personality has really begun to blossom. Our birds Elli, Ben and Furn are glad to have her here, and they sing to each other throughout the day. We really don't want another bird, but I hate to deliver her back into what is essentially classroom pet hell. I wish people didn't prove themselves to be vicious and stupid with quite so much regularity.
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Lucky Emily has birds. I have to content myself with mamals. Four big hairy mammals.
(Pining for my long-lost Indian ringneck, and plotting for the day I get my Senegal)
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