more thoughts on my lost birdie

12.19.13.2.11 5 Chuen 9 Cumhu

I am feeling better about losing my sweet Goobette. I know it's only been a few days and I assure you that it's not because I'm heartless or I didn't really love her.
I talked to the vet who did the necropsy on Friday (a necropsy is an autopsy for a bird). She said that Goober had a tumor on one of her kidneys and that all her organs were in bad shape. Not from disease, but from old age. The seizure which I thought killed her was actually the result of her dying, not the cause of it.
If I had known she had a tumor, I would have had her put to sleep.
It doesn't surprise me at all to learn that she hadn't been well and hid it from me. Her mother did the same. Literally one day Scarlett escaped from the cage and led us a merry chase through the birdroom, shrieking and enjoying herself. The next morning she was dead of septicemia, a toxic blood infection which had destroyed her kidneys. She hadn't lost any weight or any feathers. I still grieve for her because she was only six, and it was a pointless way to die.
But her lovely daughter died of old age. I'm okay with that. That's how it's supposed to be. We have our pets, we love them very much, and they grow old and die.
It doesn't mean that I don't miss her. I do. It means that I'm not raging against the gods for taking her before her time.
This last year, I've lost two parrots, three bettas, two plecos (sucker fish) and at least a dozen corydoras (whiskers catfish). The gods have enough of my pets. Please, leave me be for a while, okay?