Hope You’re Bathing in Love and Joy

This is a very sad day for me. Last night, my little friend Maynard, who called himself “Main Bird,” among other things, passed away at the University of Florida’s small animal hospital.

Sorry I don’t have a newer or better photo on this computer.

Maynard was a citron-crested cockatoo. He hatched on April 2, 1991, and he was with me from June of that year until last night. He was gentle (with me, anyway) and full of love. He lived for his times with me. He used to groom my skin and comb my hair with his feet.

I had no business buying Maynard. People make bad decisions when they’re out of touch with God. I had bought Frank, an African grey parrot, and I thought he needed companionship. Maynard loved Frank and tried to make friends, but Frank hated Maynard from the instant he saw him, so my plan didn’t work out. I had to keep them separate in order to prevent bloodshed. Eventually, they cooperated to make contact through the bars of separate cages, and Maynard bit Frank’s toe so badly he bled to death. After Frank, Maynard lost his friendliness to other birds.

I shouldn’t have bought Maynard for the simple reason that citron-crested cockatoos do not make good pets. Like many other cockatoo species, they have an insatiable desire for interaction and petting. You can never give them enough. Unless you dedicate your life to making your cockatoo happy, he will eventually become sad and dejected. When you take him out of his cage for love, he will brighten up, but the second you put him back in, he’ll feel rejected. You can improve the situation somewhat by providing toys and music and so on, but you can’t make things right.

My other bird, Marvin, is an African grey. He’s very different. He amuses himself all day, and he doesn’t mind if you spend time away from him.

Another problem is that a cockatoo that is cared for well should be good for 50 years, and he might hit 80. Even if you’re the best bird buddy on earth, can you commit to looking after an animal for most of a century?

I bought Maynard, and I found out how hard he was to please. Then I was stuck with him, so I kept him out because it was my duty. I could have sold him, but I knew most cockatoos got worse care than he did. I was afraid I would make things worse for him.

He was never consistently happy, but we had good times. I took him out every day and massaged him for long periods. I am probably immune to all types of bird microbes because I kissed his feathers so much. He used to get so flustered, he would shake with emotion. He would grab me with a foot and refuse to let go.

He never had a health problem until shortly before he died. He started chewing his feathers a few years back, and he also got fat and had to have his diet changed, but he was always strong and full of energy.

When I went to Egypt to meet Rhodah, I put Maynard and Marvin in a boarding facility. When I picked them up, Maynard had lost a lot of weight, and he had diarrhea. I started calling around, trying to find an avian vet. Some said they weren’t accepting new patients. Some offered appointments in the distant future. Maynard’s appetite was good, and his weight bounced back very quickly. He was active, and he looked reasonably happy. I decided to give him a few days.

When I got him to a vet, she took blood and poop samples. This was last Friday. She said he didn’t look too thin, and she was not concerned about his condition. She told me she would get his test results yesterday. Her office called yesterday, and they said his white cell count was high, so he needed an antibiotic.

I thought I would run over to her office and pick up the medicine, but they said they were having it shipped from Arizona. I thought that was ridiculous. He still had diarrhea.

He still seemed strong, though, so I didn’t worry. I decided I would take him to a different vet the next day.

Last night, I picked him up, and I could tell something had left him. He was limp. His beak was open. I offered him cheese–his favorite food–and he barely nibbled at it.

I put him in the car and drove him to the University of Florida, about an hour away. The whole time, I was praying for him and commanding him to be healed.

I had his test results with me, so I thought I would hand him over to the vets, they would give me antibiotics, and we would leave him alone while they worked. Instead, they insisted on examining him. That’s what killed him. He couldn’t take the stress of being handled by strangers while I was separated from him.

While I was sitting in the waiting room, I got a phone call. They didn’t even come out to face me. He had only been in the exam room a few minutes. They told me they had bad news.

I was surprised by the way the conversation went after they said he had died. They offered to do a necropsy, and they said it would cost $800. I like to think they weren’t squeezing a grieving pet owner for money, but it sure looked that way. Why would anyone want a pet necropsy, and why would it cost so much? I declined. They said they could cremate him for $60 and keep the ashes, or they could put them in a box for me and charge $140. I chose the first option. I did not want to see his ashes. I did not want to take his body or his ashes home in a box. I didn’t want to bury him on my land. I didn’t want to think of him every time I passed his grave.

I left his travel cage with them. I didn’t need it.

I drove home alone, and I saw a very strange moon down by the horizon. It was a three-quarter moon, and it was orange. The color was similar to that of a lunar eclipse. Horizontal bands of dirty-looking clouds lay across its face.

The moon looked like the devil himself was inside it, sending the world evil in the form of ugly clouds. It made me think about the tribulation.

If the rapture is near, then Satan’s time is just about over. The word says he will be imprisoned for a millennium, and then he will be released briefly to tempt the earth. We may be in his last months or years. He must be furious and ready to pull out all the stops. The word says he will be angry because his time is short. If the tribulation is near, Maynard won’t have to go through it.

Back at the house, I took Maynard’s toys out of his cage, along with a couple of perches, and I put them in a trash bag, along with the plastic bag that had been lining his poop tray. I pushed his cage into my foyer so I would be ready to roll it into my truck. I want to throw it out. I could give it away, but people here are very slow to answer ads, and I don’t want to walk past the cage every day for a month.

I was in a lot of pain, but I thanked God. Honestly, I think he rejected my prayers because Maynard didn’t have a very good life. The Bible shows that there are animals in heaven. Maybe Maynard is there now. Maybe he’s with my parents. In any case, he’s not stuck here, living an unsatisfying life and feeling rejected.

As much as I loved Maynard, I have to say that his passing will be helpful in some ways. He was a burden. Because I could not let my birds get near each other, I had to repeat things every day. I had to clean two cages. I had to take each bird out for a long time. I had to concern myself with two different diets. I had to buy multiple toys. Now I just have one bird to think about, so I’ll be able to do better by him.

Marvin senses emotions. He has been very gentle and solicitous today. I hope he won’t miss Maynard. I don’t think he will. They were jealous of each other, and they didn’t interact much.

I don’t want another parrot, so I hope Marv doesn’t need a companion.

On the drive home, I thought about my life. I realized I was very tired of death. My parents are dead. Three of my five aunts are dead. Three of my five uncles are dead. My grandparents are dead. Last year, I lost my young friend Travis to a gunshot wound. It was only a year after my father, whom I was caring for, died. Now Maynard is gone.

It’s discouraging.

Many years ago, I spent 4 months on a kibbutz, where volunteers came and went. I planned to spend a year, but I changed my mind. I was tired of seeing my friends leave. I made friends quickly, we spent a lot of time together, we made great memories, and then they vanished. When your life is like that, you may make an adaptation. You may stop making friends. The knowledge that anyone you befriend will be gone soon will discourage you.

Until last night, I never thought about this principle applying to life as a whole.

My remaining relatives are as distant as strangers. I have no wife. I have no children. I have friends, but most live far away. Right now, my fiancee is the only person I have to live for. If it weren’t for her, I would be glad to go. Someone would snap Marvin up. I don’t have to worry about him. My friends would mourn, but not very intensely.

I enjoy life, but how long does a rational person want to stay on this cursed planet, especially when the spirit of Antichrist has rendered so many people insane?

I wish Rhodah had been with me yesterday. Times like these are what husbands and wives are made for.

While I drove, I also thought about the need to streamline my life. I have all sorts of hobby junk. I have a huge tool collection, lots of guns, and many musical instruments I no longer use. The more excited I get about marriage, the less interested I am in maintaining my old pursuits. I feel like my possessions weigh me down. I’m even wondering if I should leave this house and get a property that needs less maintenance.

My next-door neighbors moved away over a year ago. They sold their big house and bought an RV. They planned to drive around ministering to people. I would never live in a vehicle, but I understand their motivation. How much can you do for God when you’re glued to tractors, guns, tools, and so on?

My yard is a real mess. I don’t feel motivated to improve it. It’s very hard to battle weeds and pests here, and growing good things is nearly impossible, even if you replace the sand with real soil. It would be nice to have a place covered in woods, with maybe 5 acres of easier-to-maintain grass.

Maybe I invested in hobbies and activities because I had no wife and no kids.

Do I feel like I want to get rid of things because, in my heart, I’m getting ready for death? I just got back from Egypt, where people prepared for death by stuffing tombs with things to take with them. I think they took the wrong approach.

The most painful thoughts I had involved my failings. In some ways, I am a contemptible person. Friends will deny it, but I know what I know. My character deficits have hurt people and animals unnecessarily, and I couldn’t do much to stop it. I can’t undo any of it. All I can do is thank God for redemption.

I feel bad today. I recognize that. I know most of what I feel now will dissipate. I know better than to make decisions based on the way I feel one day after the death of a pet I loved for 30 years. But some changes may be coming. Things may be sold.

I let Maynard down. I mismanaged his medical care when he needed me, and it killed him. That will be hard to get over. I also let him down while he was healthy. I trapped him in a situation that could never work out well. For years, I’ve been praying for God to help me do better by him, and I thought maybe it would happen once I had a wife here to help me. I can forget that now. At least I can refrain from making the same mistake a fourth time. No more pets. I’ve never bought a pet out of anything but selfishness.

I’m grateful for all the times I did things right. I’m glad I let him walk around on me and try to help me with his painful grooming routine. I’m glad I kissed him so much. I’m grateful for all the times I held him and loved him until he shook with gratitude. I’m grateful for every dollar I spent on him to make things better for him.

That’s it. His earthly problems are over. If pets have an afterlife, maybe there will be some redemption, in a place where time means nothing and creatures are good to each other for so long, they can’t remember anything else.