Anyone following my Insta stories over the weekend will know it was a weird one. I had had a few days of just feeling “meh” “yuck” whatever you want to call it, I daren’t say I was sick, because I wasn’t, I just felt like the life had been sucked out of me & couldn’t explain why.
So the struggle was real, and I’m not just saying it ‘cos that’s a cool phrase now, the struggle was actually very real.
Then Saturday afternoon I noticed my little feathery companion of 11 years was acting strangely & I immediately knew he was dying. (Fun Fact; Budgies hide their illness until things are at dire straits, and so when you realise they are ill, it’s usually too late…ok maybe not so fun fact).
Already feeling so underwhelmed by the world, I then felt absolute dread, worry, panic, stress that this little guy was going to die any second.
I ran out to tell my other half that the budgie was dying… but he had just discovered his Mini had taken on inexplicable water, and so barely glanced at me when I broke the news…
I spent 30 hours fretting, worrying, checking on the bird every few minutes, even got up twice during the night to see if he was dead or alive… all the while, not so much as a reaction out of the man in my life…
Now I did not marry the most emotional man in the world, that I am aware of… but I was beginning to think at this point that he may in fact be completely HEARTLESS.
When the end did come for my little feathered friend, I couldn’t help but have a good cry over it. This poor little guy! He may have been tiny but he was actually a huge part of our life.
He moved house with us at least 6 times. He kept me company on countless evenings while home alone, and indeed living alone. He was endless entertainment in various ways that only bird-mammies can appreciate. The boys only ever knew him to be around, chirping & screeching like a backing track to our daily life.
The youngest took a particular liking to him in recent months, and loved when I put the cage on the floor so he could have a 360 view of his antics.
Budgies don’t usually live for 11 years so I take pride in the fact that he was happy & healthy for that length of time.
All of this & all these memories, and not a stir out of the man. I sobbed on & off about the poor creature dying. And I sobbed again this morning when I had to tell the children, and explain to them that no, we couldn’t just leave him dead in the cage… and that he wouldn’t be here anymore once they got home from school.
I was having ALL of the emotions and laying them out on the table.. meanwhile, with himself…
Not a stir!
Not a quiver!
Heartless I tell you.
At the very least I would say he must be emotionally constipated…
I did at one point get a very masculine pat on the back while I sobbed… that’s a glimmer of hope I suppose…!
What do ye reckon ladies?? Do I need to slip some emotional laxatives into his tea?
Or should I be glad I have a Man of Steel by my side?!
Hubby, when/if you read this, I very much appreciate your Man of Steel-ness most of the time, and thanks for digging the grave…!