Our little female budgie, Spanky, is very ill and quite honestly, Mr. Pip and I do not know how long she is going to hold on.
The feathers around her head are spiked, and her eyes look almost weary and fed up. Spanky is our first adopted budgie from the SPCA and when she came to us, we had no idea how old she was.
She is a wonderful ol' gal...chittering and blustering the other budgies to the end...except for now. She likes to sit on a lamp in our living room by herself to absorb the light bulb's heat during the afternoon/evening.
Earlier today, she sat alone in the room I'm typing in, perched on the windowsill, absorbing the sun.
Every five minutes, Mr. Pip bursts in. "Aren't you upset? We're about to lose our old girl!"
Look, you old fart, I regard loss as such in a different manner. Stop being so melodramatic about things and let me cope with what is going to happen in my own way. Stay the fuck out the bird room.
If I combined Lyrica with street amphetamines and yapped all the time, maybe I'd feel differently.
But I don't, and I don't.