So terribly sad

We rehomed Rosebud today, and I'm miserable. I feel guilty. I feel ashamed. And I can't even let myself think about how bad she feels right now. She just lost the family that had cared for her for 14 years.

Rosebud is a gorgeous and healthy green-winged macaw. My wife and I got her in 1995 as a 3-year-old. It was two years before we got married and was really the first commitment we made to one another: this was OUR pet. We'd take care of her together.

It was never easy. In our small condo, her huge cage sat in the front room, the only place big enough for her. She was messy. She has an ear-piercing squawk that you could hear a block away. Green-wings are the noisiest of all macaws.

She was ornery. It took weeks before either one of us could pick her up, and I can't count the number of times she's bitten both of us, sometimes drawing blood.

But she was also endearing. She has an amazing vocabulary, and she quickly picked up new things. After my first Lab died, she imitated the annoying pant he'd developed late in life. It was obnoxiously funny.

We made the best of life in the condo for five years, then moved to our current three-bedroom home. We were delighted to be able to get her out of the living room, where it was difficult to even watch TV or entertain in peace.

We started out with her in our bedroom, where she'd still get some social time with us. It never worked out. Our room is pretty small, and she's messy. And loud. We moved her to one of the "spare" rooms, and that gave us some peace. But it also pretty much eliminated that room for any other use. Guests couldn't stay there. No space and too loud. Our office couldn't be there because she was too distracting.

As we grew as a family, we accumulated more stuff. The only other bedroom, the "TV room," was crammed with a futon for guests, office, extra closet space. It turned into a cluttered mess. Things spilled into the garage, and that got messy too. The computer went to the dining room table in the living room.

Until the last year, we never dreamed of rehoming her. We were her flock. The beginning of the end may have come when Kelly's hours changed at work. Instead of starting work at 5 p.m., she starts at 7:30. All the time she was able to spend with Rosebud in the mornings and early afternoon was gone. And when she gets home from work at 5, she's exhausted. And being greeted by a squawking, attention starved bird is not the way you want to relax at home.

Kelly's developed high blood pressure too, and Rosebud's squawks didn't help. The bird wanted attention, but Kelly needed some peace. I helped out, but Rosebud is Kelly's bird. She's never truly happy unless she's spending time with her.

So Rosebud's days got more boring. I'd feed her in the mornings, then she'd spend the day alone. Kelly would let her out some time in the evening, but it was never enough. We felt bad for her. It was not a good life for a flock animal.

So we did the unthinkable, first and foremost to give Rosebud a better life. We contacted the local bird club and looked into rehoming. They sent us lots of things to consider, then a long list of people wishing to adopt a bird. It was up to us to contact the people. We considered several before settling on the family we gave her to today.

The woman is 36 and a volunteer for the bird club. She and her husband live in a 3,000 square foot home about 40 miles away. They have three kids, an African grey parrot and a couple shi tzus. Her age was appealing to us. While Rosebud in all likelihood will outlive us, there's a chance this woman will be able to care for her the rest of her life. And she's already got someone she can will her too when she dies. With us, in 14 years we never found anybody we trusted who could make the commitment to care for a macaw for life.

I'm writing this more as therapy than anything else. I'm sick. We owned her for 14 years, and as much of a pain in the ass as she was much of the time, she was family. She has her own personality, and we're the only ones she trusted. And we gave up on her.

I didn't see the tears coming until we walked away from the house. What have we done? There's no going back now. Half of me is hoping they won't be able to handle her, and they'll give her back. But the other side knows it will never work. We've tried everything we could to give her a good life, and we couldn't do it. If she can get by these next few months, she's going to be a happier bird.

I just need to keep telling myself that. Maybe I'll start believing it.





Last Kiss

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