I've had a lovebird for a couple of years. Daddy caught it outside of his house on his air conditioning unit. I didn't want Mama to give it away when it got to be too much trouble to take care of so I brought him home with me. Scout and I were able to feed it by hand.
After Scout and Colt didn't live here any longer the bird got real attached to me. He would fly around and land in a window and watch me fix dinner or wash dishes. He was getting friendlier and friendlier.
The other day I had to go some place and I forgot and left Buddy in the house with the bird. It was out of his cage. When I came home that evening it took a while before I realized my little buddy, the bird, wasn't around annoying me and seeking my attention like he would usually do. I started feeling anxious and looked for him. I even went outside and whistled for him, hoping he would hear me and come to me. I knew something was wrong.
I finally found my little bird lying in the floor behind a chair. He had a gash in his chest.
I was crushed.
That bird was the last tangible thing I had from my father. It was my last living connection. It really hurt knowing I had lost my little bird because I was in a hurry and didn't even think about putting Buddy outside that day. It was my own fault.
I sure will miss my little friend.
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