I have an old (34 years) dear friend who is a wonderful journalist, a gay guy from West Texas (!) now living, laid off, in Germany. He and his partner have birds, and he wrote the following, upon my writing that I seem to be looking for Dog #6 (at Best Friends- key word, "Enzo" or "Aleah." My friend Ernest is very spiritually inclined and here's what he said about the birds and animal rescue:
It is your calling in life -- and a very noble calling too.
Other people buy new cars or invest in condos -- for their "retirement" life.
You wisely built your house (gallery/kennel) ahead of time and have dedicated your life to rescuing animals.
I take in every canary or budgie/parakeet or elderly parrot which neighbors or our veterinary offer us. The vet calls and says an old dear is going into a nursing home and must give up her bird and could we possibly ... so next thing we know, Klaus and I have another bird. We have a couple dozen birds of all sorts now in various cages. It has become way too much.
The other evening "The Birdman of Alcatraz" was on TV and Klaus had never seen it and, being European, had no idea who the "Birdman" was (a true-life personage) or even what "Alcatraz" was. America is an endless cavalcade of exotica to Klaus. How could he know that one of the world's foremost authorities on canary birds had been a lifer in a max-security prison on a rock in San Francisco Bay?
Anyway, Klaus took one look at one scene and said, "Mein Gott, that looks just like our apartment!"
http://www.thefilmyap.com/wp-content...raz-inside.jpg
And it does.
The amazing thing is that each bird has a distinct personality. To a stranger, they all look alike. But to Klaus and me, each is an individual, recognizable by his or her voice, or characteristic posture or movements -- or just a twinkle in a beady little eye that says, "Hi, it's me!"
I have seen a bird's soul depart its body. I remember the elderly blind, one-legged canary who, despite his handicaps, still sang every morning in the richest and most beautiful voice you can imagine. Until his last morning. He was old and weak and just lay there, breathing hard. I stood over him and spoke to him and (I admit it) I wept as his breathing became slower and he finally exhaled for the last time.
His spirit rose up and, with a flash of golden feathers, he flew straight up, as if on a sunbeam.
Did I imagine that? Who knows? Who cares?
Yes, each creature has its own individual personality. And we humans are custodians. I have ended several small lives. When the time was right. In an emergency. Rather than permit needless suffering. I have also watched the vet carry out a necropsy, cutting open a beloved pet companion to determine cause of death -- which is important when you have many other small creatures at home who might be susceptible to a contagion.
I have helped to deliver litters of kittens, litters of puppies. I have held a puny puppy as it died. I have cradled an elderly dog in my arms as it has breathed its last.
It is our job as humans to be there at the beginning -- and also at the end. And some of us (such as myself) are privileged to escort their souls ....
Love,
Ernest
Please register to participate in our discussions with 2 million other members - it's free and quick! Some forums can only be seen by registered members. After you create your account, you'll be able to customize options and access all our 15,000 new posts/day with fewer ads.
