In Loving Memory
Caspien, named after Prince Caspien from the Narnia series, is my cockatiel. He passed away on Thursday. He was a part of my family since he was a few months old - seven years ago - and was the sweetest little birdie you'd ever meet.
He could sing and laugh and dance. On reflection, it probably wasn't a cluey idea to try to teach him more than one song when he'd barely learnt the first one. It led to... improvisation.
He would dance when I played the violin. He saw the bobbing motion of the scroll and joined in. He would dance with people dancing to music (or trying to dance).
When I ran from one end of the verandah to the other, Cass would fly after me and land on my shoulder. That stopped when he broke his wing and got the tip amputated. If it affected him, I didn't notice it much.
He was so devoted. I couldn't come home or roll over in bed in the morning without him chirping. He wasn't even in the same room, though I checked his line of view and I think he could see a reflection into my room in one of the mirrors. Heh.
He sat behind me as I typed and would scramble down to peck at my fingers as the tapped the keys. He has perforated many a paper (both waste and important) and even a book or so.
We buried him on Sunday in the long since sandless sandpit in the backyard. The bells from his cage hang in the surrounding trees and a large, squat log has been rolled over the grave to stop the masses of neighbourhood cats digging him up. Even in the end, as he was wrapped in gauze for the burial, he was soft to touch. I remember him like this - softness and beak with a heart of gold.
And now moving onto the fic status:
DELETED WITH NO SIGN OF REVIVAL :)
That's about all for now.
The Mad Tortoise.