Rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated

I’m in shock. I just got a call from the vet. He said, “How are you?” I said, “I’m upset about the crow.” He asked, “Do you want some good news?” I said yes, thinking my parrots’ yearly tests have come back satisfactory. Instead, he said, “The crow is not dead.”

What.

He went on to explain that they did not put him to sleep right away, as soon as I left, like I thought they would. In the  meantime, while they were waiting to do the procedure, Phil was charming everyone, like he does. The vet decided to x-ray him one more time, just for his own education, to see if the object had moved in any way. he wanted to see if possibly an easier surgery could be done, and he would do it for free (thinking that it was cost that caused me to chose euthanasia, which it was not).

No object showed up on the x-ray. He had pooped it out, just like they told he he would not be able to do.

I’m on the phone, saying, “what?” “what?” and he said, “It’s true. You can come pick up the crow any time. I tried to call you earlier but there was no answer. I left messages. I was trying to get in touch with you”

So for almost 24 hours, I cried over this crow, when he was playing at the vet’s office, landing on people’s heads, stealing pens, and eating them out of house and home.

Today I am going to go pick up that naughty crow who caused me so much grief and headache and puffy eyes from crying

I want to thank you all who wrote such kind messages to me. They made me feel so much better when I was in the depths of regret, sadness and second-guessing.

Can you believe this?! I think I have a name for the crow now: Lazarus.

 

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