She is very smart for such a small creature and I don’t think I appreciate her nearly enough.
Those words came back to haunt me yesterday. My poor little Indy bird died while in my hands, hugged close to my chest, looking up into my eyes.
It was a horrible couple of hours holding her, knowing she dying and there was nothing I could do to help. All I could do was try to remain calm while I talked to her and gave her head scritches. Try being the key word in that sentence. Me being upset would only have caused her more stress at the end. Animals can feel these things.
During those last couple of hours I played her some Eagles, she loved to sing and dance to them, gave her drops of water on her little tongue, and walked her around the house. I would have taken her out to say goodbye to her “outside” birdie friends, but I was afraid she would get a burst of energy and instinct would have told her to try to fly away.
I already miss the daily whispered “Good morning Indy” and her saying “Give Kiss”. Red Sox season is going to be starting soon. She won’t be here to listen to Don and Jerry, yell “C’mon”, or call balls and strikes. Yes she called plays. She was our own little green monster.
Little in size but big in personality. Indy, Miss Indy, Spindy Indy, or Pretty Birdie. Hmmm no wonder she used to sit and ask “What’s my name? & Who’s the birdie?” No matter the answers will always be “Indy’s your name & Indy’s the birdie”
We’ll miss you.