My beloved c***atiel, Peter was dead. He was my dad’s bird, at least what my father would brag to family and friends. Anyone with eyes could see that he wasn’t. He was mine, my buddy, my friend. My best friend. When I was a child I couldn’t stand Peter. He was obnoxious and loved to bite. When I turned twelve, my opinion changed. I began to take care of him and slowly that bird won me over. I could always count on Petey. He could be a peckerhead but that didn’t stop me from loving him. Nothing could.

And then, that changed. He was dead. Overnight. He was an old bird but he was healthy. It made no sense. How could he be here one day and gone the next? I hated it. When we buried him, I wouldn’t forget him.

I grew morbid. Watching his patch of dirt for signs of plant life. Watching so that no one touched his grave. I know what I wanted. I wanted that to be Peter, but it couldn’t. I wanted him back.

On Valentine ’s Day, we were in a car accident. This was a week before Peter died and I knew since I had a lot of injuries, I was going to get money. I could spend a little and the rest was for my college fund. I figured I would probably just buy a pet rat or some fish for my tank in my bedroom. That was before Petey was gone.

Ever since first heading into the pet store, I loved looking at the animals. I would always stop and pay any of the animals for sale some much needed attention. For a year and a half, I watched  two Green- Cheeked Conures. No one wanted them. No one even gave them the time to be looked at. I always stopped and stared, talking calmly to the birds. The Conures were a bonded pair. I always wanted to help them.

It was seven weeks after Peter died, did I realize what I truly wanted to spend my money on. I walked over to go see the poor Conures, unwanted and unloved. I started to talk quietly to them. They ran to the edge of the holding cage, straight to me. I watched as they started to do comical actions, like walking on the top of the cage and flinging food onto the bottom of the cage. They stole my heart.

Watching them, I came to a realization. Did I really want a rat or more fish? Did something else steal my heart? I didn’t want the rat, the fish, or a million dollars. I wanted the Conures! They needed me like I needed them. The birds stole my heart.

Can you guess what will eventually happens? I bought the Conures. Those birds needed some serious TLC and entertainment. They received it.

But I still didn’t forget Peter. I couldn’t and I wouldn’t. I walked over to Peter’s patch of grass. I look carefully and I turn away. Peter needed to be let go. He needed to go to the afterlife and wait for me there. I know I’ll see him again. He didn't need me anymore, but two other birds did.

Peter taught two very important lessons. He proved to me that if you love something let it go and that sometimes to heal the heart, you need to love again.