Crazy Ol' Maurice, He Was Always Good For A Laugh...

Maurice and his favorite treat, millet

I have always been meaning to dedicate a blog post to my best bird friend, but never actually got around to doing it. Now, however, I have more of a reason than ever before to think of crazy ol' Maurice.

I have always loved basically any kind of animal. I could never be restricted to just dogs but when I think about someone who loves animals, I think of a total weirdo. I have met very few people who are attractive and who also love animals to the extent I do. I am NOT a PETA fanatic and do enjoy a steak every once and a while but when I think about an "animal lover", I think about socially inept people who wear no makeup, air dry their hair and wear wranglers with a Walgreen's Arizona wolf t-shirt. So because of this gruesome imagine, I have always hidden my interest in animals because, to be quite frank, no one really gets it like I do... except for the wranglers girls.

Also, my birthday was in April and around that time, Tyler and I were preparing to move into a basement apartment. For some reason, I got this idea that having a bird would be so much fun! I imagined it sitting on my shoulder and perching on my finger in a lovingly way. Well, when we got Maurice, the image changed drastically.

He didn't perch or sit or even want to be close to us at all. Who can blame him? If I was locked in a cage with giant people looking down on me and speaking gibberish, I would poo on the floor too!

Well, the months rolled by and I waited for him to realize that we weren't going to hurt him and eventually, we gained his trust. Eventually he came out on his own and loved to crawl up on my shoulder. The image had metamorphosized itself and he turned out to be a pretty cool bird.

This is a video of when we first got him. We would open the door and he would talk back to the birds outside.

Although it was really fun having a parakeet, it surprisingly had some work included. He picked through his seeds to get to the good ones and would push the yucky ones on the floor. He also would shed some feathers from time to time and he pooed a lot which I would have to scrape off of the bottom of his cage and clean off.

Yes. There were ups and downs associated with my little feathered friend but he was fun nevertheless.

This morning as I came home from school, I noticed that he was sitting at the bottom of the cage and trying to sleep. That was strike one. Birds are never supposed to sit at the bottom of the cage. Next, when I tried to wake him up, he was very weak. Strike two. Birds are always alert because they often become treats to another animal. Finally, I opened his door and reached in there to grab him and he didn't budge. Strike three. He HATES when I would reach in his cage and usually flies around until I catch him and he gives reluctantly up. I tried to take him out to further examine why he was acting so and as I did, his tiny, cold body seized up and in that moment, I saw him take his last breath and then die.

I didn't know what to say or do. Never had anything died while I sat there and watched it. I couldn't help it. I started to cry. I know what many of you are thinking,"He was just a bird and animals die all the time. It was just a stupid bird." But he was my bird and I already miss him. He trusted me and I really cared about him. I loved his little toes and the way he would affectionately nuzzle my hand. He was a great pet and it's still hard for me to think that he is dead. I can even hear his song still. I guess I am the dorky "animal lover" in everyone's eyes now, but like I said before, you wouldn't understand.