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Description
One of the hardest things to do is watch a life fade away, especially one that used to be so energetic and full of life gradually slow down. I try not to think about what life will be like with her gone because she hasn't passed on yet, but it's still difficult to think about.

Instead I try to remember the good things that happened with her, all the adventures we had and how much fun she was to watch. The way she would fluff up her feathers when she saw you coming, turning into that pale-blue marshmallow that you always looked for with the sunny yellow head.  To remember what it was like to be sitting in your room and suddenly have a bird on your shoulder, singing quietly to you or chewing on your earrings.

The way she would climb all over a knitted sweater, unable to decide what to chew on next.  She'd go from your collar to a fold and back again.  If you were wearing glasses that was even better. They always had to be climbed on so she could reach behind them and preen your eyebrows and eyelashes. You always had to make sure to keep your eyes closed because she was not the most careful.

When you were across the hall, she would fly over there, buzz your head, then fly back to her cage only to repeat the process a few seconds later.  And you could tell when the hormones were raging because she'd want nothing to do with you.  She'd yell at you with her high-pitched voice and flit over to the other side of the cage.

You knew when she was tired because if anything got close, she'd cackle at it, her mouth wide and tongue sticking out, ready to bite you if you got close. And of course I had the opportunity to get too close many times, but as soon as she learned that you were just petting her chest, she'd stare down at your finger with wide eyes and yell at you until you moved away.

Water was one of her favorite treats, with fresh water being the best.  If you carried her down the hall into the bathroom and turned on the shower, she'd fluff up her feathers and look three times her normal size because she knew she was getting a bath!  She'd jump on your fingers and rub all over them, walking down into your palm to beat her wings lightly against your hand as she tried to spray water further onto her back.

When bath time was over she'd be soaked to the skin, her eyes winking closed as she napped on her perch, giving you time to finish up.  But when she didn't have a bath, she loved to be given drips of water.  If you dipped your fingertip into her water dish and then held it to her beak, she'd turn her head upside down and lick the droplet from your skin, sneezing if she was too enthusiastic and ended up getting the water on her nose.

In the summer, if you pulled out the small transfer cage, she knew it was time to go outside!  She couldn't wait to jump on your finger so you could put her inside and then carry her downstairs.  When you opened to door to her outside containment area, she'd scramble to fly in and wouldn't want to come out all day so I'd end up having to wait for her to fall asleep so I could grab her. Then she'd have a fit, of course.

But now she's not like this. Over the past several weeks she'd had a bulge form on her chest and right away I thought 'tumor'.  She used to fly around my room quite often, long enough to tire herself out, but now she gets out of breath far easier and rarely flies. She prefers to sit inside in her cage, her feathers fluffed, and sleep.

On top of that, she's sung far less and, just recently, has begun losing weight. She used to be significantly heavier than Caleb, but now the difference is a lot less subtle. She's also become thinner than she used to be, which is quite alarming. I know tumors are quick parakeet killers and, at the rate she's going, am not sure if my Sky will survive the rest of the year.

Description
One of the hardest things to do is watch a life fade away, especially one that used to be so energetic and full of life gradually slow down. I try not to think about what life will be like with her gone because she hasn't passed on yet, but it's still difficult to think about.

Instead I try to remember the good things that happened with her, all the adventures we had and how much fun she was to watch. The way she would fluff up her feathers when she saw you coming, turning into that pale-blue marshmallow that you always looked for with the sunny yellow head.  To remember what it was like to be sitting in your room and suddenly have a bird on your shoulder, singing quietly to you or chewing on your earrings.

The way she would climb all over a knitted sweater, unable to decide what to chew on next.  She'd go from your collar to a fold and back again.  If you were wearing glasses that was even better. They always had to be climbed on so she could reach behind them and preen your eyebrows and eyelashes. You always had to make sure to keep your eyes closed because she was not the most careful.

When you were across the hall, she would fly over there, buzz your head, then fly back to her cage only to repeat the process a few seconds later.  And you could tell when the hormones were raging because she'd want nothing to do with you.  She'd yell at you with her high-pitched voice and flit over to the other side of the cage.

You knew when she was tired because if anything got close, she'd cackle at it, her mouth wide and tongue sticking out, ready to bite you if you got close. And of course I had the opportunity to get too close many times, but as soon as she learned that you were just petting her chest, she'd stare down at your finger with wide eyes and yell at you until you moved away.

Water was one of her favorite treats, with fresh water being the best.  If you carried her down the hall into the bathroom and turned on the shower, she'd fluff up her feathers and look three times her normal size because she knew she was getting a bath!  She'd jump on your fingers and rub all over them, walking down into your palm to beat her wings lightly against your hand as she tried to spray water further onto her back.

When bath time was over she'd be soaked to the skin, her eyes winking closed as she napped on her perch, giving you time to finish up.  But when she didn't have a bath, she loved to be given drips of water.  If you dipped your fingertip into her water dish and then held it to her beak, she'd turn her head upside down and lick the droplet from your skin, sneezing if she was too enthusiastic and ended up getting the water on her nose.

In the summer, if you pulled out the small transfer cage, she knew it was time to go outside!  She couldn't wait to jump on your finger so you could put her inside and then carry her downstairs.  When you opened to door to her outside containment area, she'd scramble to fly in and wouldn't want to come out all day so I'd end up having to wait for her to fall asleep so I could grab her. Then she'd have a fit, of course.

But now she's not like this. Over the past several weeks she'd had a bulge form on her chest and right away I thought 'tumor'.  She used to fly around my room quite often, long enough to tire herself out, but now she gets out of breath far easier and rarely flies. She prefers to sit inside in her cage, her feathers fluffed, and sleep.

On top of that, she's sung far less and, just recently, has begun losing weight. She used to be significantly heavier than Caleb, but now the difference is a lot less subtle. She's also become thinner than she used to be, which is quite alarming. I know tumors are quick parakeet killers and, at the rate she's going, am not sure if my Sky will survive the rest of the year.