Chippie was the first Bird my wife brought home. She begged me for weeks to let her have one, finally she came home one day and put that little ball of feathers on my chest while I lay on the couch - he was a small juvenile lovebird (American Cinnamon) and he became one of the family that very day. She loved that bird so much, that as they bonded and grew together they became inseparable. Rambunctious and precocious as he was, he bonded with her and was forever her companion. He was still friendy with other people, but not so much with the other birds (Buddy, a rescue budgie a neighbor caught) and Yuri, the Indian Ringneck she eventually had to have. But he was the first bird, the boss, and the Alpha-bird whom the other birds respected.



He was always adventurous, and often in pursuit of his own interests he would find or get into things he shouldn't have. We had, at times, to unwind hair caught in his claw, and one time had to rush him to emergency when he was struck by a ceiling fan (he survived fine and was back to normal in a few days). But he was always at risk of misadventure and just this past Saturday, I found him suddenly experiencing symptoms of illness or injury. Hours before when I put him back in his cage he was fine, but now he sat low at the bottom, barely moving and almost limp. I panicked and tried to call the animal hospital emergency number, only to get a recording quoting another number for which there was no answer. I could not have known what was wrong - he seemed fine merely hours ago, but as the night wore on and my options were limited, I lay him down in his coconut bed and hoped he could survive the night. I awoke at 6:30 AM to find him alive but hanging upside down from the branch of his boinger, almost waiting for a fatal fall. I took him carefully by the breast and cupped him, did an external exam (nothing to see), and held him in my hands as long as I could. I was heartbroken to see him unable to hardly move or recover, he had no balance and no signs of recognition in his eyes. It was apparent to me that somewhere, somehow he had gotten injured or ingested something that made him very ill. With one last spasm, he fell from my hands onto the carpeted floor below, and as I carefully picked him up, I turned him over on his back and watched and heard him take his last breath. My heart broke then and there, as I spent the next hour crying my eyes out and refusing to let go of my little friend.



I'll remember him for being larger than his size, a bold, active, inquisitive and fearless bird who would hold his ground against the Ringneck (easily four times his size). He was very beautiful, with unique colours rare for a lovebird and quite friendly with people. He was a little jealous as the two other birds were introduced to the household, but kept his position as the alpha bird in the flock and was very smart, to the point of being sometimes evasive and hard to control.



As with all our birds, my wife did not want them clipped despite the safety concern, she would rather they enjoy and develop their flying and get exercise. This has not been a problem, but I am so heartstricken with grief not knowing what happened to an otherwise healthy 8 year old lovebird. I don't understand what he could have gotten into or what could have happened. I did not see him labor for breathing, I only saw him in a limp or semi-comatose state for the last 8 hours of his life, and have no clue what could possibly have happened.



The very, very worst part of all this is that this happened the second day that my wife was away on a spa vacation with girlfriends, so she does not yet know what happened (she returns on March 7), and her family suggested I wait until she comes home to tell her. She will be absolutely devastated and inconsolable - these birds are to her like the children she could never have and this one was the one of the three bonded to her most strongly.



I will never forget this little bird. He made us laugh many times and was always there, sometimes getting in the way a bit too much but always seeking our company. He will be greatly missed. I hope he did not suffer, and I hope that it was nothing in the house that caused a hazard for him  leading to his untimely demise. My heart goes out to him, my wife, and to all those that have lost pets they were very close to and truly bonded with.



I'm writing this now, only two days after his demise, to help myself heal from the guilt and anguish I feel. Trusted with his care in my wife's absence,I may have overlooked something and not noticed a problem earlier. I relied too much on my wife being able to look after the birds and know what to do, and with her away I might not have been as prepared for such an emergency happening so suddenly. If I discover that I was in any way negligent towards his demise, I don't think I could ever forgive myself.



God Bless you Chippie, you were our first, and our dearest pet together. Thank you for your almost 8 years of bringing joy to our lives. May you rest in peace and bask in our love for eternity.