The Ringo Starr song, Six O'Clock has been stuck in my head for the last 2 days. The song was actually written by Paul and Linda McCartney, and they both performed in the recording. The chorus, "I Don't Treat You Like I Should," is repeated over and over. At first, the song getting stuck in my head was more random than anything, but yesterday it took on a different meaning, and I wonder if it has now carved itself into a significantly sad memory for me.
Kiwi, Noah's lovebird that he got when he was 11, died Sunday morning. I went in to feed and water her. I took her out of the cage and cupped her in my hand. I stroked her head as she looked at me. I talked with her. It has been hard having a lovebird. They need lots of companionship. I have her in my little home office since we have very predatory cats who would figure out how to ravage a cage until they got access to her.
Before Noah got her, he researched lovebirds extensively. The joy of watching Noah with her is something unparalleled in my heart. He was so in love with her. Most nights, our older cats were put downstairs so Kiwi could come out, visit, and fly around. She had so much personality in a little bird.
She loved the song "Popcorn " by Hot Butter, an early-70s techno-instrumental that literally sounded like popcorn popping. She would bob her head up and down, bouncing her full body to the music. She learned how to say her own name, which was so amazing. She would carry on conversations with us and imitate noises from the other room, such as a spatula tapping against the side of a pan or the gas burner ignitor's click.
Sometimes she would walk around on the living room floor. Other times, she would fly up to the ceiling fan and sit up high, watching us. We took her out and put out a small plate of water for her to splash around in.
When the pandemic happened, she got to have Noah all day, every day. She would be so loud sometimes; it was hard for him to hear. When he let her out, she would remove keys from his keyboard and could even crack his earbuds open like they were seeds, much to his dismay.
When it was time to remodel Noah's room, she was moved to the office. She loved having me in there. Noah had returned to school, so this worked since I was there 3 days of the workweek. I would let her out, and she would explore the shelves and get mad at inanimate objects as she explored.
As time went by, we shuffled the rooms around, and I did not have an office for a year. During that time, we tried to move Donna's pottery room in there with her, but she ended up with a respiratory issue that we had to take her to an avian vet for care.
We got by that, and she got better. I spent a little time with her in the evenings since I had not been working there. She loved music and talking. I would hold her and read out loud. She always loved this.
For the last year, life has had so many unwanted distractions. It was harder to spend time with her, but we did whenever we could. Noah had been talking about finding her a home where she would maybe have a companion or someone who could give her lots of attention.
But yesterday, all of that changed. I could tell something was up. I set her back in her cage to turn a pan off in the kitchen that I had left on, and one minute later, when I returned, she was gone. I picked her up and held her under my neck, so sorry that I could not give more time to this sweet little life that just loved so much. Whose day instantly became the best day ever when someone came into that room.
Donna came in and held her for a while, and then we had to tell Noah, who I could see was silently hurting so deeply. Liam, too, was very sad. For Liam, there was more to it than just Kiwi. Kiwi for him was connected to a past of intense love, hurt, and paradox.
I also felt this when I was taking apart her cage. It was connected to a memory of someone I really love, who I no longer have in my life. The incredible love and care that went into Kiwi getting that cage only hurts today. It makes the loss so much greater.
Liam said the most profound thing to me. He told me how wrong all of this is. How we, as humans, have these complicated lives where all these trivial distractions and responsibilities keep us occupied. Our pets, although very important to us, are a small part of our day compared to everything else we have to pay attention to. But, those little lives, we are 100% of their existence. When we go to work, they live to see us again, and it is the best thing that ever happened to them when we appear and give them attention. All they want is us. They want us to love them, and nothing else matters. I dare say we do not deserve the pedestal they place us upon.
How is it that we get to be god-like in the eyes of these precious beings who love us so unconditionally? How dare we? We overtake our existence with worthless things, all the while we can learn from these beautiful hearts that never get their priorities out of line.
We dedicated a spot in Donna's garden to rest our very big, little friend who brought such light into our lives for the last 9 years. Liam made a wooden box, and flowers were planted to mark the place. Such a beautiful little soul, full of love, happiness, and yes, I think, even humor. She really did mean so much to me, even though I failed to take the lessons in love she was teaching me when she was here. There are things that will always make me think of her. I miss her so much already.
The following are lyrics from Ringo Starr's Six O'clock
I don't treat youLike I'd like to treat youEvery diamond in the sky is in your eyesBut I don't treat you like INo, I don't treat you like INo, I don't treat you like I shouldNo, I don't treat you like INo, I don't treat you like INo, I don't treat you like I shouldI know you would sayYou love my wayIt's good enough for youBut I know for sureI could do more (more), more (more)
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