Somehow, pets seem to get ill and/or die when you're away from home. I don't know if statistics would prove it, or if it's just part of Finster Guilt. But that's the way it seems to be.

Bruce and I were away for most of the day on Wednesday. As far as trips away from home go, this one was pretty safe: I had time to feed the Finsters and give Earl Grey his meds before we left, and we got back home shortly before the lights went out, so I had just enough time to change out the poop paper and give them fresh water. Easy peasy!

But my ministrations bothered the birds just enough to spook them all out of their nest boxes. And when Earl Grey came out, it was clear he wasn't doing too well. He fell out of the nest, he fell forward onto his face, he didn't stop chirping to call out to the other birds, but his voice didn't sound right. Such an unhappy bird! And there was nothing we could do. Cheep, cheep, cheep, cheep, cheep, cheep, cheep....

So Bruce put him into the most popular nest box, turned the lights out, and we waited while all the birds settled down for bed. Earl Grey stopped chirping, and a couple of the birds joined him, which was the best possible way he could spend the night. And Thursday morning, he never came out of the box.

I had to cut the box open to get him out. (Lucky for the Finsters I'd made a fresh batch recently, and had an extra to put back in its spot.)

Who knows, I may not have noticed anything terribly wrong on Wednesday if I'd been home to watch. And even if I'd been there, there's no guarantee a trip to the vet's office could have helped. Besides, just the day before he flew away from me twice when I tried to catch him for his meds, and he took a long, squeaky, happy bath! But birds can go quickly. Even the soft, sweet ones.

In the "Good News" column — because I've really been trying to find good things lately — Szechwan (Pepper) sang his Hunka Hunka Burning Love song today. It's possible that his voice didn't sound quite right, but since it's been awhile since I've heard it I'll just assume I don't quite remember it. HE SANG!

R.I.P. Earl Grey, November 2, 1997 — December 28, 2006.

Guess who I couldn't catch this morning to give him meds because he was strong enough to fly away? Twice?

Earl Grey!

Guess who Bruce had to catch with the Green Net of Evil Catching?

Earl Grey!

Guess who still spends a lot of time sitting in the heat of the light bulb?

Earl Grey.

Earl Grey is doing reasonably well. It appears unlikely he'll get any better, but he isn't getting any worse. It's a little hard to tell, of course.

On the good side: 1) I couldn't catch him in the middle of the day the other day; 2) he can often fly from the floor to the high perch on the other side of the Finsterium; 3) he sang a little of his Hunka Hunka Burning Love song the other day again, although his voice still didn't sound right; 4) he took an actual, real BATH today; and 5) his poops are usually less chalky than they used to be.

On the bad side: 1) I can still catch him in the morning to give him his meds; 2) he still spends a lot of time resting in the heat of the light bulb; 3) occasionally he still strains to poop, and occasionally his poop is still chalky; 4) his lower beak seems to be over-growing, which is a sign of liver problems; 5) last night he regurgitated quite a bit, for no apparent reason (what's up with that?!?) and 6) he can't always get around very easily, although he is falling less often.

Here's the really good part: he doesn't seem to hate it when I give him Bird Noodles after he takes his meds.

The other day Ginger joined Earl Grey in the heat of the light bulb. You'll notice that Earl Grey has followed Ovaltine's lead: his head is on the ground, and he's looking just about dead. Hahahahahahaha.

I haven't seen Ginger there since I took the picture. It was probably the Evil Flash of the Evil Camera that drove her away. Or, maybe she's just feeling better.

Now, keep in mind that even after giving him several days — straight — of Daytime Warm Toasties, I still did not expect Peanut to die. At. All.

However.

I believe that Earl Grey is feeling a little better. Here's why: 1) he's not straining so hard to poop; 2) he struggled a little in my hand this morning while I was giving him his medicine; 3) he took a mini bath today for the first time in a few days (the stinky thing hasn't taken a proper bath in awhile); and 4) he sang a little of his Hunka Hunka Burning Love song this evening, which I haven't heard in more than a few days. His voice still sounded wrong, but singing is always a good sign.

Which is not to say he's well. He's still spending a lot of time in the heat of the light bulb, and he still isn't getting around very well. Nothing quite like the sound of a 14 gram bird falling off a perch. (They bounce a little when they hit the ground.)

But I'll be optimistic, right? How else am I going to get that pony?

This is Earl Grey looking about his worst: sitting in the heat of the light bulb, on his tummy, bedraggled and sleepy.

In this picture his head is raised — at his absolute worst his head is resting on the ground. This is Earl Grey in hospice care.

The mornings are the hardest, both because of the stress of being caught for medicines, and because it's been about 24 hours since he's had the meds, and I'm pretty sure they're helping. Every day I think this might be his last; I think that most often in the mornings.

But then he'll get up and snack, and get some water, and I relax a little. He also flies up and spends some time in and on top of nest boxes. He can't fly straight from the floor to a box anymore, but he still gets up there. And he still sleeps in a nest box.

The other night he had a hard time getting to a box. He probably made his way to the boxes a little late, which made the process a little harder for him. I turned the kitchen light back on to give him some help, but it was bedtime, and he really wanted to be up there, with his pals. He's mostly been sleeping with Oolong and Wasabi (Peas), either inside the second or third box (these will all be from the left). He managed to get on top of the fourth box, and then on top of the third box, and then on top of the second box, and then on top of the first. From there, he got himself inside the third box, which has traditionally been his box. But that night the other birds were in the second box. He called and called, but they didn't budge. So finally, he made his way inside the second box — with a flight reminiscent of his healthy days, back when I could never hope to catch him in the daytime: he flew a nice loop from the porch of the third box to the porch of the second. Success!

Just now he spent a few minutes flying to the tops of several different boxes. He clearly wants to snooze next to one of the other Finsters, but unfortunately they're not interested. Oh, the other birds take plenty of naps during the day, or just sit with each other quietly. But they know Earl Grey is sick, and are a little wary of sitting with him, at least during the day. In the wild, of course, the sick birds are most likely to get picked off by predators, so it's a bad idea to spend too much time with them. Lucky for Earl Grey, they'll nap with him inside a nest box, day or night. Sweet things.

After Peanut died, I got a lot of messages from people who read the Finster Log, expressing their sympathy. I tried to reply to them all personally, but as I recall I was having problems with my e-mail account at the time, and — of course — I was a little distracted. So if I didn't reply to you, I apologize. I appreciate all your thoughts, and words, and kindness.

Nicolette is a special case, and not just because she lives in Paris — imagine that, Peanut is famous in Paris! — but because we started up a short conversation. She sent me a long and lovely and bittersweet note about her budgie Perry, who died on November 22 last year, far away at Nicolette's parent's home in New Mexico. I never replied to that note, and I apologize. I just can't seem to respond without being sad crying.

I haven't written much about the sadness, but really it's there all the time. And I guess it's unrealistic not to mention it once in awhile, at least. Because I feel it every day. Every morning when I don't give Peanut breakfast, every evening when I say "Sweet dreams, the Finsters." Because before I tell the Finsters good night I'm supposed to tell Peanut good night: "Sweet dreams, Peanut, sweet dreams, the Finsters." That's how it goes. And some nights when I don't say the first part out loud I start to cry, and some nights when I do say the first part out loud I start to cry, and every night, every night, I think about that first part, because that's how it's supposed to be.

My brother recently got this very adorable puppy named Wilma. Partly because his dog Nora died. Small consolation. (Literally.) He says, "I don't try to be overly-rational about the pets. It's too hard and unproductive."

So despite the fact that I wouldn't tell a prospective employer about this web site, and despite the fact that I haven't written much about the sadness, let me be irrational, or at least honest, right now: every day the world seems wrong without Peanut. He was a good friend. No reason not to talk about that. No reason not to reply to Nicolette. I'm sorry.

Partly I'm sad because Earl Grey is fading dying. Let's continue with the honesty, shall we? He's dying. And this morning I noticed that he was having a hard time pooping. I hovered over him for awhile and realized he was all plugged up. He finally did manage to poop, but it took a lot of work.

Since Peanut died I've stopped expecting vets to perform miracles, but Death By Constipation would be a terrible way to go. So I took him to the vet's office, to see if there was a way to make him more comfortable. Of course, the vet had no idea what might be going on, but she sent us home with the bird equivalent of a stool softener, and an anti-inflammatory. The way Earl Grey has been getting around, I should be able to catch him pretty easily every morning for his meds. We'll see how it goes. And how long he lasts.

I finally figured out a pretty good solution for keeping small birds warm while still in the Finsterium. Thanks to scrap wood, a scroll saw and the magic of hot glue, we now have a way for the Finsters to get off the floor and sit in the warmth of a light bulb.

While the platform was never considered Evil (thank goodness), it did take about ten hours for Earl Grey to use it. He's sat on it a couple of times now over the past two days, never for very long, but hopefully it's given him a bit of a boost. Probably the ideal Heating Platform would be a heated nest box placed high like all the rest, but there's always a tradeoff — a lower spot is easier for a sick bird to get to.

Oh, yeah, Earl Grey is the only Finster that's used the heating platform so far. I hate to see him sitting there, since that proves the fact that he isn't feeling well. But I'm also happy to provide it for him.

So Earl Grey is fading, but he still gets around. Here's a photo of him snacking on millet spray in the Magic Purveyor of Tasty Seeds:

I was doing the daily cleaning of the Finsterium this evening; door wide open, dirty paper out, clean paper in, dish of fresh water on top. I was leaning down to get a handful of Floor Snacks when Earl Grey zipped down to the floor, hopped onto the water dish, and took a drink. My face was at the same level as he was, about a foot away. So I froze, and watched him take several drinks of water. The night-time dish gets milk thistle in it, just in case any of the birds have liver problems. I'm not sure if the water tastes different, if he was really thirsty, or if Earl Grey has an easier time getting a drink from this smaller dish,** but he sure did take a lot of drinks.

Then suddenly, Oolong dropped down to the floor. She was a little nervous, and hid behind the dish at first. But after a few seconds, she reached her head over the edge, and got a drink. The two birds sat there for a couple of minutes, taking drinks, a foot from my head, no doors between us. Neat!

I remain concerned about Earl Grey, but I realize he's probably just old and fat. Which doesn't mean that he's entirely well — he sleeps a lot, he eats a lot, his poops remain chalky, he's pretty much stopped singing and the last time I heard his song it sounded wrong. But it does mean that there isn't much I can do. Oh, I spoil him with Floor Snacks, millet spray, cucumber seeds and other treats, and I put milk thistle in the water. But that's about all I can do. Except watch, and worry, and watch some more.

* The first Magic Moment was when I gave Peppercorn (Mélènge) half an hour of Warm Toasties.

** Note to self: put the small water dish in the Finsterium during the day to see if Earl Grey prefers using it to the big one.