Nine years ago Shawn bought a baby cocketiel. He visited the bird every day at the small pet store after work and it bonded with him pretty quickly. The store thought the bird was male because it was a bright white all over with two vivid orange dots on either side of the face. We named the bird Lulu, regardless.
Then, Lulu began to lay eggs. Lots and lots of eggs, year round. I complained about his bird nonstop. I never felt like it was right keep such an animal, a creature that could fly anywhere in the land, crammed into a cage. It would be like locking me in the living room for all my life. I hated the mess that Lulu saddled me with. Poop, bird seed, bread crumbs, more poop. It was a never ending battle for me.
But I found ways to connect with Lulu, in spite of all that. She really loved the Andy Griffith theme song. I whistled it when I did dished along with other old TV shows and hymns. She danced on top of a little box I set in the cage, she made sharp, happy noises whenever I whistled. Shawn couldn't whistle. Even though Lulu hissed at me when I changed her water bowl, at least we had those songs.
Lulu also barked like a dog when someone came over. She learned to bark from Prissy, who we lost a year ago to severe arthritis. The dogs always look to Lulu to see if a stranger is on his way through the window.
On Thursday, Shawn noticed that Lulu was getting ready to lay an egg. He thought it looked a bit red & swollen, but assumed it was normal. He mentioned it to me when I came home & I said it was normal to look a little swollen and I noticed a broken egg on the cage's floor. It was probably fine.
Around 8:30 pm, I bent to close the curtain at Lulu's window and just happen to look up at her. Something was wrong. Seriously wrong. Lulu was perched on the top rung of her ladder. Her breathing was labored and her egg hole was....just wrong. It looked like something had come out that should not have come out. I wasn't sure what I was looking at, but I knew it wasn't good.
We hit the internet and posted a photo on a forum. I stood at Lulu's cage for a while before I went to bed. "I am so sorry," I whispered. I knew she had to be in pain. I quietly whistled Andy Griffith twice, and figured it would be for the last time.
I lay in bed for an hour that night. I was sure poor Lulu would be dead in the morning. While I lay in the bed, Shawn later told me he had done his own research online. He found out about egg binding, which I'll get to later. He was certain Lulu would not make it through the night.
The next morning, I went straight to the cage and there sat Lulu, still on the top rung. Her breathing was slow. There was something extra poking out from the egg hole and poo slowly dripped down. "I'm so sorry sweetie," I cried. I couldn't stand it that there was nothing--NOTHING!--that I could do to ease her pain. I could not do the obvious, I just couldn't.
I set the alarm clock for Shawn & went to work. I told Liz about it. I was crying. I had foolishly forgotten that I was speaking to The Show About Me. Liz had once had a bird and when I shared my pain with her, this is what I received: "Me me me me, me-me...me and me, me me. Me me me, oh and me-me, me me."
Once again, Liz sees an opportunity to see how her own story relates to this and she can talk about it for six hours. Clearly, I would receive no consolation here.
9:30 am. Shawn shows up at my job. I hug him outside and we both cry until we're shaking. "I'm so sorry I couldn't be there with you," I sobbed.
Here's what happened: The vet took Lulu and gently cupped her in his hands and his eyes widened as he viewed the bird's under side. "This isn't good," he said. "I know it isn't good..." Shawn replied.
No one at the pet store instructed us on how to handle a female bird because everyone was certain that Lulu was a male. We never knew such a thing could even happen, that it was possible. Females tend to lay eggs in the spring & the fall. Their bodies use calcium to create the egg shell. When a bird such as Lulu lays eggs like a chicken, it depletes their body's supply of calcium. In this case, a calcium supplement should be provided. Of course, we had no idea that we should have been doing that. There's nothing out there to tell you that you should be doing that. We had no idea we even should have searched a thing online!
With the calcium deficiency, the egg can become lodged in the uterus. The bird will normally break her pelvis trying to extract the egg. This normally, in most normal cases causes almost instant death, as far as I am told. The bird cannot survive this process.
So the doctor says, this isn't good. "This is her uterus. This is her bladder. This is her kidney," the doctor explains to Shawn.
I stop here because I do not know how to type out the sort of anguish this brings to an animal person. To know that our Lulu had sat there like this with three major organs hanging outside of her body for that many hours, still alive....It's difficult to put into words.
Shawn blamed himself and of course I tell him that he didn't know any better (regarding him noticing the redness & swelling Thursday morning). When I had noticed Lulu, well after the clinics had closed, I wasn't exactly sure what I was looking at. Deep down I was hoping it was just some sort of afterbirth, maybe something I never noticed before or didn't know about. But I knew she was in pain. I knew what I was looking at wasn't going to last long.
The vet placed a needle into Lulu's wing and pushed the plunger.
The house is oddly quiet now. I hear a sound that is EXACTLY like Lulu gnawing on her cuddle bone. I think to myself, "Ah, that's just Lulu on her cuddle bone." Then I peer from the kitchen to the empty space in the window.
I opened the cabinet that needs grease on the hinges. In my mind, I hear it squeal, followed by Lulu's reaction to the shrill noise. No....it was just in my mind. I never realized how much I'd miss that bird until she was gone. Yeah, I complained about her all the time, but I do the same with close family members.
I didn't sing when I did the dishes. I didn't whistle, either. I think it would have been easier if she'd merely gotten sick & died. It might have easier to know that she wasn't in that kind of pain. It might have been easier if it wasn't the result of something ignorant we could have prevented.
One year ago, almost to the day, we had to put down our 13 or 14 year old dog, Prissy. She was healthy. Had the blood of a healthy puppy; the vet had never seen anything like it, ever. If we knew that jumping down off the furniture would damage her back so badly over the years, we could have prevented that horrible day. Same with Lulu. We just didn't know. "Sucks," Shawn muttered. "Another perfectly healthy animal."
Whoever said ignorance is bliss?
We wondered why this poor bird was even alive Friday morning. "I guess we raise some tough-shit animals," I sighed.
Prissy examines Lulu after a shower
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