R.I.P little buddy

On August 20th, 2011, at approximately 10 a.m., Alvin, our beloved family pet (a cockatiel), flew to the big aviary in the sky.  He was about 26-27 years old and I've had him since I was four; in cockatiel years, that's probably 70-80 something (according to Wikipedia, they can live up to 20 years but it's not uncommon for them to live past 20).  It's been so long since I've been petless and I can't remember NOT having a pet.  All the pets I've had either died or have been given away to better homes.  Alvin outlived and outstayed them all.

Alvin talks to the "other bird" in his mirror.

Not a good picture of him but a picture nonetheless.

"Hey little buddy!"

Alvin being....himself.

Alvin has fun with his toy bell.

Again, Alvin finds joy in sticking his head inside his birdy bell.

A picture of Alvin as part of a makeshift memorial (where his cage used to be).

Memorial where Alvin's cage used to be.

It's been a week since Alvin has passed away.  It's painful for me to write this very blog post as is; I feel like crying but I just can't get out the tears.  A week ago Sunday, I spent the night crying myself to sleep, muttering to God through my tears that I wanted my pet bird back, which is impossible but when one is grieving the loss of a pet, one gets caught up in a whole array of emotions. 

I've lost pets before - goldfish, two hamsters, a box turtle, and a lizard - but Alvin has lived with me most of my life and he was a part of our family.  I guess one could say that he was the family "mascot."  I was closer to him than all of the pets that I've had, which makes his death a hurdle for me to get over.  I'm not ready to get another pet just yet.  In fact, I don't know if our family will get another one any time soon.  I don't know if I want another cockatiel.  Just looking at them reminds me of Alvin. 

My late grandpa found Alvin and took him home, perched on a carrot.  Grandpa gave him to me on said carrot stick and me, being the scaredy cat four-year-old that I was, I threw Alvin, carrot and all, against my grandparents' backyard screen door.  That was my first "meeting" with Alvin.  Since my grandmother didn't want any pets after the death of her beloved dog, Penny, my parents and I took him to our home and Dad started calling around to see if anyone had lost a pet bird since he clearly escaped from someone's home.  After not finding any takers, we adopted Alvin into our family.  He initially would whistle the theme from the movie "Bridge on the River Kwai" but eventually would sing songs in his own little way.  Alvin was found of saying "pretty bird" a lot and enjoyed bobbing his head up and down while simultaneously moving his feet up and down as if he were dancing.  He would make clicking sounds and tap his perch with his beak if he wanted someone to talk to him.  While he didn't like people touching him, Alvin enjoyed it when people paid attention to him and he would whistle back in response to such attention and would often chirp when he heard Mom or Dad pull in the driveway after work (like a dog would bark when someone would come in the door). 

Aside from bird food, Alvin would occasionally get his favorite treat; Rice Krispies or any other plain, unsweetened cereal (e.g. Cheerios, Chex, etc).  Sometimes I would call home on my lunch break and leave a message on our answering machine for Alvin and when I got home from work, I would play it back for him and he would respond to the message with joyful chirping; my dad would also do this, too (in fact, Alvin's chirping can be heard in the background on my Dad's voicemail and on our answering machine message). 

Sometimes when I'm in a depressed mood, Alvin would be the one to cheer me up.  When I went through a time in my life when I had a bad depression spell while dealing with a full load of college coursework, I would sit next to Alvin's cage and he would chirp in  such a way that it seemed as if he knew I was sad and wanted to cheer me up (my face would be completely red from crying). 

The day after Alvin had passed away, Mom, Dad, and myself all had a "wake" for him.  We had barbecued beef ribs and reminisced about his life. 

Rest in peace, Alvin.  I miss you, little buddy.