I'm your only friend, I'm not you're only friend, but really I'm not actually your friend but I am.

When I was a freshman in college, I visited a pet store, and having owned several lovebirds, I saw this lovely baby gray and white cockatiel.  I bought him, and brought him home with me.  I taught him to whistle, and my dad taught him to not whistle, and he was mostly grumpy and his favorite thing was to sit on the windowsill and yell at blue jays.

I woke up this morning to find my little 20 year old friend still and cold.  I buried him in the back yard under a tussock of earth and grass.  

I'm sad today.  Caliban was not neglected, but with a child and dogs and a job, he just sat in his cage and sang to his mirror and watched the birds through the bars of his cage and through his window.  But at that, he was neglected.

I'm sorry Caliban, that you didn't get another chance to perch on the windowsill and yell at those blue-jays, or that you didn't get to wander around the bottom of your cage placed in the grass. I'm sorry I didn't buy you the millet that I wanted you to enjoy.

I'm glad that I took you out and cleaned you and talked to you last week, even though you hissed and yelled at me for doing it.  I'm sorry that being a better person for me, made me be a less better person for you.

Fly free on un-clipped wings, my poor boy.  I hope in your next life, someone loves you with the amount of joy you deserve, but thank you for being a steady and unfailing song in the background for such a long period of my life.  The quiet of no background chirps will be a unbearable for a little while