Post by novascel on Dec 12, 2019 2:07:59 GMT
Also known as Mr.wiggie.
I'm going to try not to beat myself up anymore over accidentally stepping on and killing him. He had a good five, almost 6 years, on his wings. I can't take back what I did, and it kills me all the time to know I killed my own baby. I have flashes of what it would have been like had I not been so distracted when I came through the door, had I looked down better or seen him out of the corner of my eye. If I saw him he would still be alive.
I would have seen him and picked him up and playfully scolded him before bringing him to his cage. But it's too late. All I can do is take steps to make sure I don't have to bury another feather baby because of a mistake I made.
In the end, I had to bury him, he fluttered his wings the last time and must have died nearly instantly. I heard his bones break. I cried as I dug him a 5-foot deep grave in my garden beside the blue morning glories which ironically matched his beautiful wings and feathers. And then next to a climbing rose bush.
Afterward, I planted an amaryllis on top to mark his grave until I get a proper headstone with his name and picture. I buried him with flowers from the garden and Millet and I wrapped him in a small quilt piecing I was working on but had yet to finish.
I kissed him goodbye a lot.
I should be planning Christmas with my birdies and looking forward to it but instead, I'm burying one of them.
It's not the same without him.
I also got him some lovely blue painted flowers from the store that match him.
(Sorry the images are so small)
I'm going to try not to beat myself up anymore over accidentally stepping on and killing him. He had a good five, almost 6 years, on his wings. I can't take back what I did, and it kills me all the time to know I killed my own baby. I have flashes of what it would have been like had I not been so distracted when I came through the door, had I looked down better or seen him out of the corner of my eye. If I saw him he would still be alive.
I would have seen him and picked him up and playfully scolded him before bringing him to his cage. But it's too late. All I can do is take steps to make sure I don't have to bury another feather baby because of a mistake I made.
In the end, I had to bury him, he fluttered his wings the last time and must have died nearly instantly. I heard his bones break. I cried as I dug him a 5-foot deep grave in my garden beside the blue morning glories which ironically matched his beautiful wings and feathers. And then next to a climbing rose bush.
Afterward, I planted an amaryllis on top to mark his grave until I get a proper headstone with his name and picture. I buried him with flowers from the garden and Millet and I wrapped him in a small quilt piecing I was working on but had yet to finish.
I kissed him goodbye a lot.
I should be planning Christmas with my birdies and looking forward to it but instead, I'm burying one of them.
It's not the same without him.
I also got him some lovely blue painted flowers from the store that match him.
(Sorry the images are so small)
