Bye Bye Birdie

Wednesday night began with an announcement in the backyard. "Guess what, guys?" I asked as cheerfully as possible. "Tonight, we are going to PAR-TY!"

Everyone was immediately suspicious. "Why?" asked All-a-Boy. "What for?" asked Cowgirl. "Do we get refreshments?" asked Princess.

"YES!" I answered enthusiastically. "We are going to have ICE CREAM! And COOKIES! But first someone has to guess which chore we are taking out of the job jar FOREVER!"

Hopeful guesses were immediately shouted out. Vacuuming? Dishes? Laundry? Bathrooms?
Nope.

Shoe job? Trash job? Toy closet?

Keep guessing.

Dusting? Make beds? Clean Buddy's cage?
"That's it! We don't have to clean Buddy's cage anymore!" I told them. And then All-a-Boy, in true tease-cowgirl-who-loves-the-bird-most fashion, said, "And then Buddy will DIE!"

"Actually," I interrupted, "he already did."

(I told you I wasn't good at this kind of thing.)

Weeping and wailing and questions of unbelief began immediately and I explained how I had found Buddy and then buried him. But tonight were going to celebrate Buddy's life, not be sad about his death. Cowgirl took it the hardest, as was expected. All-a-Boy was quick to make up for his untimely teasing.
"Where did you bury him?" Cowgirl asked. It was the question that I dreaded most. Because honestly, it had taken everything in me to place Buddy's little birdie body in a paper bag. I did not want to deal with a backyard burial. So, I buried him in the only place I was capable of... (please do not think badly of me!) the trash can.

"He is buried somewhere in the yard," I answered (truthfully!) while passing out ice cream bars. And then the Buddy Celebration began.

We all took turns jumping on the trampoline and sharing our favorite memory of our little feathered friend.
Thumbelina recalled the time that our bathroom was flooding and All-a-Boy ran to Buddy's cage, opened it, then yelled, "Fly away, Buddy! Save yourself! Be free!"
All-a-Boy remembered when Buddy became a phantom bird and found his way into the crevice between the kitchen sink and the dishwasher.
Princess laughed as she talked about the time Buddy flew onto the tray of Baby O's highchair and O was excited for the company.
Cowgirl's favorite memory was of the day we got Buddy.
I don't think Hubba had a story, but I think he may have seen Buddy's ghost...

Afterward, we went inside for a movie night and slumber party.
The next morning I asked Cowgirl if she would like to clean the cage and sell it then use the proceeds to purchase a stuffed animal which lives online as well. She liked that idea.
We listed the cage for sale and Cowgirl had cash in hand by this afternoon.

We're going to buy her a Webkinz bird tomorrow.

(For those of you who marveled over my cruelty in burying the bird in the outside trash receptacle, hate me no more. Allen always had a soft spot in his heart for Buddy and wanted to give him a proper burial so I dug the bag out from under a few things and he will find a new resting place in our yard very soon.)

Flown The Coop

I have never been a huge advocate of pets. For all of you who may be pet lovers, I apologize. But let's be honest - would I be a responsible pet owner with nine children to care for? (Hint: the answer is an enthusiastic NO.)

But, Gerb, you are thinking, I remember reading about your bird. You do have a pet.

Actually, did.

But the kids don't know yet.

Yesterday Allen and Coolister flew the coop to go on a rafting trip. Not more than 2 hours after their departure I noticed that our bird was not in his cage. This is normal - he sometimes flies around the kitchen and sleeps on the stove. (I know!) But not today. So, as I stood on a chair and peeked into the bottom of his cage, there he was.

Dead.

This is not the way this is supposed to have worked out. I mean, we've had the dang bird for almost 3 years now, and his previous owner had him for at least a year before that. So as far as parakeets go, he lived a pretty long life. He was loved plenty, ate lots of enriched birdseed, he even had his own grape-shaped chunk of chalk. Does it get any better? (Hint: The correct answer is NO, it does not.)

I am not sure what led to my finding him laying there with his little birdie feet in the air, but find him I did. And Allen is gone. So as soon as the kids realize he's not happily chirping about in his cage it will fall to ME to have to somehow tell them he is now flying around happily in Birdie Heaven where the streets are paved with gourmet birdseed and the trees are all made of spinach leaves.

I did not sign up for this.

Allen agreed to take the bird in.

Allen thought it would be good for the kids to have a pet.

Allen loved the bird.

Allen is on a river trip with the scouts!

So, quickly, before my kids figure out what happened (so far no one is suspicious...), I need some advice. How should I tell my kids that Buddy is no longer with us?

Do I say that he flew the coop (lie) or just tell them he died (which is sure to bring on more questions)?

When the wee ones begin to cry, do I feign sadness along with them (lie) or ask for help in cleaning out the cage so we can sell it and take everyone for ice cream with the proceeds (bribe)?

What would YOU do?

Unexpected

A couple of days ago Coolister asked me to come see something.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Just come see," was his reply.

So I followed him down the stairs as he informed me, "I think there is a mouse in our dryer."

I stopped. I am not a big fan of mice. Sure, they look all cute and tiny and they're awesome helpers if you're Cinderella or Gizelle, but those little rodents also occasionally jump onto people who are just trying to help them get out of the house without killing them off (I know this from personal experience).

As we approached the dryer I could hear the scritch-scratch noise of little mouse claws trying to work their way out of somewhere. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end as the heebie-jeebies made their way up my spine. Coolister cracked open the dryer and looked inside but no beady little black mouse eyes peered back at us. I sang the beginning refrain of Gizelle's "Happy Working Song" but no little critter responded. It was not in the dryer.

The noise came again, scritchity-scratch... from the dryer ventilation tubing. It was trapped in there and couldn't get out.

Since we didn't want to cook the little rodent and have roasted mouse stench in the dryer, we had to help it escape.

Coolister and I devised a plan. First, remove the dryer vent, then turn the end of it over into a large container, allow our little mouse intruder to fall into the container, put a lid on and take the container outside to set the mouse free.
Once it got to the part where we were supposed to remove the vent, I got squeamish. I could just imagine the disease-carrying rodent jumping out, landing on my arm and running up my sleeve. I let Allen and Coolister take over while I took pictures. It wouldn't jump out! They shook the dryer vent, encouraging it to escape. Finally, it landed in the big, blue jug.

"It's a bird!" Coolister exclaimed, pulling the lid over the container's opening.

A bird.

I like birds. A lot, actually. My heebie-jeebies went away as we walked outside to free our feathered friend.
We pulled the lid off the top of the jug but he wouldn't fly away. He just sat there, bewildered.
Finally Allen tipped the jug onto its side and our temporary visitor found freedom.
I couldn't help but remember another visit we had from a bird a couple of years ago. I wondered what lesson I was supposed to learn this time around.

I decided it was this:

Sometimes we get ourselves in predicaments that we can't get out of on our own. At times like this we need to rely on others to help us... and that's okay. It's not always easy to accept help from others but sometimes it is necessary.

We just need to realize that we can't make it through life's journey alone.

And that is why God gave us friends.

CSI: Buddy Edition - The Final Conclusion

If you're not sure what this is all about, read HERE (my last post) first.

The story continues...

I searched every inch of the basement for our fine feathered friend, to no avail. I searched every corner and possible spot upstairs and still couldn't find Buddy anywhere. I decided to face the inevitable: Buddy was no longer with us.

As I washed the breakfast dishes I thought about how to break the news to Cowgirl. Perhaps a note from Buddy? Maybe we could just get another blue parakeet and she'd never know the difference? Or there was always telling her the truth. I wasn't sure what to do... and then I heard it.

Little parakeet noises. Chirping that sounded like it was coming from inside somewhere. I searched the cabinets. I looked inside the dishwasher and stove. I investigated the kids' cubby beneath the counter. Nothing. But I kept hearing him sing.

Was it a ghost-Buddy?

Was I going crazy? (Don't answer that.)

I called Allen at work and told him what I was hearing. He offered suggestions as to where I might look and then decided to come home to help in the search.

I pulled the dishwasher out from its space in the cabinets just as Allen arrived. The chirping grew louder.

"He's in there, I know it!" I said, pointing to a cavity between the sink cupboard and the dishwasher. And then, as if on cue, out he jumped.

Mystery solved. He was playing hide-and-seek.

How did he get in there? Here's Allen's guess (from his comment on my first entry about this whole adventure) :

I think he landed on the kitchen floor and was drawn to the warmth of the heater vent under the sink. Upon closer inspection, he found that he could hop up into the overhang of the cabinet and hang out in the cavity between the dishwasher and the compartment under the sink. Once there, he couldn't get out because he didn't know how.

So, as much as I hate pets and threaten to get rid of him, welcome back to the cage Buddy.

And P.S... You better not do anything stupid like that again.

CSI: Buddy Edition

THE FACTS:

• I woke up this morning, as usual, and began to fix lunches for the kids to bring to school.

• I made tortilla roll-ups, which are a welcome change from the usual PB & J.

• As I began to layer spinach atop the ham I thought of Buddy, our bird, who loves spinach.

• I looked to his cage. It was open, as usual. But no Buddy.

• I was nervous that he may have died in the night and was now resting (forever) at the bottom of his cage. I checked. No Buddy.

• I listened for his happy chirping. Nothing.

• Buddy rarely leaves his cage. Strange.

• The older kids helped Allen and I scour the house - under couches, over cupboards... no Buddy.

• Everyone left for school or work and now I remain in the house with the 4 smallish members of our family.

• Cowgirl is not yet aware that he is missing. (He is kind of HER bird.)
  

• Where, oh where, could our little bird have gone?

POSSIBLE CONCLUSION(S):

• He is playing hide-and-seek.

• Alien abduction.

• Spontaneous combustion.

• Birdnapped!

• A planned escape (in the same manner of the fish residing in the tank in Finding Nemo)?
  

Stay tuned for new developments...


(What do YOU think happened?)