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This is the best picture I ever got of Oasis, who died today at just shy of 12 years old. Something like 11 years, 10 months, though I can't be exactly sure because he was over eight years old when I got him and the pet store was giving him away to anybody who would buy his stuff with him.
Destroy All Rings!
Destroy All Rings was his favourite game other than being terrified and running away from any sounds that weren't made by himself or Zoe. That one was always his favourite, of course, being tiny and ever so tasty to cats.
He'd had a bad day a couple of weeks ago - he had some little seizures, which he'd never had before and were very alarming - but I put a heater in his cage and refreshed everything and kept everything nice and quiet, and he'd recovered pretty well. There'd been no more seizures, and he'd been spending more and more of each day awake and doing his normal little budgie things. The last three or four days, he'd been completely back to normal except for maybe a little extra sleeping - I'm not even sure of that - and this morning he'd been all about hopping down and demanding food and then, after being fed, going to bug Zoe next door to try to get her to pay attention to him. (Like he does, or, rather, did, whenever he was feeling rambunctious. I think he thought he was wooing her. Being eight times his size and a completely different species, she wasn't going for it.) I was thinking that maybe it would be time soon to put the heater away.
Then I went back to the kitchen after math - I'm revisiting my old maths texts for hopefully-next-year grad school work and because my experience with recent neuro papers tells me I need to - and he was dead on the floor of his cage, already cold. I don't know what happened, but at least it seems to have been quick.
Destroy All Rings!
Destroy All Rings was his favourite game other than being terrified and running away from any sounds that weren't made by himself or Zoe. That one was always his favourite, of course, being tiny and ever so tasty to cats.
He'd had a bad day a couple of weeks ago - he had some little seizures, which he'd never had before and were very alarming - but I put a heater in his cage and refreshed everything and kept everything nice and quiet, and he'd recovered pretty well. There'd been no more seizures, and he'd been spending more and more of each day awake and doing his normal little budgie things. The last three or four days, he'd been completely back to normal except for maybe a little extra sleeping - I'm not even sure of that - and this morning he'd been all about hopping down and demanding food and then, after being fed, going to bug Zoe next door to try to get her to pay attention to him. (Like he does, or, rather, did, whenever he was feeling rambunctious. I think he thought he was wooing her. Being eight times his size and a completely different species, she wasn't going for it.) I was thinking that maybe it would be time soon to put the heater away.
Then I went back to the kitchen after math - I'm revisiting my old maths texts for hopefully-next-year grad school work and because my experience with recent neuro papers tells me I need to - and he was dead on the floor of his cage, already cold. I don't know what happened, but at least it seems to have been quick.
