Last night while staring blankly at my computer monitor upstairs as usual during the night, I felt something touch my hair. The area in towards the back of the crown but more to the left. The sensation felt light as if something small went through the hair strands, almost patting it down with little feet of claws.
I smiled slightly and said aloud: “Simon!” I slowly but almost immediately patted the top of my hair and tried to figure out if the hair was just misplaced and gravity brought it back down into place.
I knew it was Simon greeting me or bidding goodbye. He was my little trinket head and the only parakeet that made the softest cooing sound when I tried to press my cheeks against the bars of the cage and that would bob his head up and down in synchronized motion to my fingers, cupped like a parakeet beak.
Right now, the boy had called to speak with his Maw, who is now telling stories about the parakeets and their times together. The boy mentioned that the bird might have possibly experienced an aneurysm, again from the severe seizure, and the fact that overfeeding birds could pop their little innards.
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