Too Short a Time

Recently, I have been forced to acknowledge that I own two very old animals.

I don't like it.

Rafiki's death made me aware again of just how old he was, and how old Malaika is. Birds don't age visibly, so there are no outer markings to give warning.

On the other hand, there are plenty of signs a dog can give. Cinder's muzzle is now almost completely white. She's got noticeable cataracts. She's going deaf. She still dances and jumps around at walk time, but... Last week, she took a four mile round trip walk with my father and sister. Used to be that was a lark for her, and even last month it was no big deal. This time she was demanding rest stops on the way back.

I don't like it.

I don't like it at all.

Sadness

One of my birds just died.

Rafiki.

He was fine this morning when I took them out of their cage to clean it.

He seemed fine.

I've not spent as much time with them as I should lately--it's hard when I also have a dog now--but I'm sure I would have noticed.

But then this afternoon, he just sat there. And there wasn't even really time to think of a vet, much less take him to one.

I'm not sure if it would have made a difference.

He was thirteen, fairly old for a lovebird.

But it was so sudden. And I don't know what happened. He can't have eaten anything--there's nothing in here, I'm very careful about that.

And Malaika is calling for him.