I never really considered that I'd be losing my little dominant pied after two years, much less to how he passed away. I'd thought that, if anything, Pina might die of old age. He was too cherished to have to go through the pain he did. Alas, Pina passed after injuring himself somehow on his wing, and I noticed too late. He was always a very clever budgie, and knew how to get attention. So, he started to try and open the door of the cage, or do a backflip on his food bowl and pretend his foot is stuck- until he actually got stuck. I realised that Pina was head-first in his bowl, so I took him out, thinking nothing of it. I didn't see the blood- I didn't think he was actually
hurt. He'd done it a million times before. But, then I did realise that he was bleeding- and a bird so small can't survive the amount he lost. So, I ran to the kitchen and poured the baking soda over the injury, just as I knew I was supposed to do. And, it worked, I blocked the bleeding out.
But, like I said, a bird so small can't survive the amount he lost.
He died hours later, and I don't think I've ever been so heartbroken. It's not that he was the first companion I'd lost, but Pina was always the closest to me.
Anyway, I want this to be a little bit of a memory- I want to share just how special my Pina was, so that I can share some smiles. So, here's a collection of some moments I've had with the two years of having him.
I have never heard of a budgie that becomes tame in an hour of being bought. Alas, Pina did it. He wasn't trained at all before that and actually came from a very bad quality pet store, but moments after I'd set the cage down onto the table, I drew my hand in to refill the food bowl. He was too impatient. He climbed down, stood on my hand and ate like he'd never eaten before. I thought, maybe he's just starved- I wouldn't have been surprised, the cage I'd seen him in was horrifyingly unclean. But, the next day, I'd come and told him, "I love you!" He fluffed up the way birds usually do, and then repeated it in a very pathetic and squeaky voice. The second day, ladies and gentlemen, and Pina had already learned to mimic "I love you!". Then, he forgot how he did it.
Fast forward a few months, I came home crying. I don't really recall why, but I was so upset I literally collapsed onto the floor and cried and cried. Pina somehow escaped his cage, climbed down to the floor and scurried to me. He didn't do anything, just huddled next to me at first. Then, he started to hiss at the tears. I don't know, just remembering that makes me warm inside.
He used to really want to be with us, to the point where he would throw a tantrum in his cage so we'd have no choice but to open it up for him. Then, he'd just chase after us wildly if we try to walk away. The amount of times I'd have to check behind me just in case he found a way out of the cage and was following me are uncountable.
Pina really was the highlight of these past two years of my life, and I am so grateful that I had something so special, though its heartbreaking to me that I have to say goodbye. Everything around me is a little memory of him- my laptop, since he'd always find a way to perch on top of the screen, or just chill on the keyboard- my books, since almost all of them have pages which are nibbled away by a little beak- my pens, my pillows, the curtains, the air-conditioner (which was a very confusing thing to me since he was flightless most of his life), the feathers I still find sprinkled around the floors.
I don't think there's a single bird even a little bit like Pina. So, RIP, my little darling- and I hope we can reunite someday.