Bad momma

I been a bad birdie momma, I have. *sigh* I guess it was bound to happen. I got too confident in letting the birds fly around the house and one of them got hurt the other night. Unfortunately, it had to be Pickles. Poor Pickles who has already been through so much stress in his short six years. He needed another reason to pluck.

Monday night Pickles, Punkin' and Toby were out for their usual playtime. I was doing my usual thing, puttering around the house. While I was washing dishes I heard the lovebird alarm/annoyed call, "BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP!!!!!" Went to investigate and found Pickles with his toenail stuck on the front door screen. The weather has been pure hell this week, we're in the 90's again (This year has SUCKED with all its damn heat waves!) so I had the front door open to circulate the air. Nothing I haven't done a thousand times before. Poor poopie must have panicked like crazy because once I got him free, he couldn't move the leg that had been stuck. After comforting and calming him some, I put him down and he flopped all lame-like, not using the offending leg. I comforted him some more and put him in his little tissue box "bedroom" in the cage. End of birdie playtime. I kept an eye on him for the rest of the evening and noticed that he wouldn't use the leg and continued to nibble and preen it. Shit.

Next morning he was still limping around so I took him to work with me. The vet I needed to call to get a referral from (the one I take Stan to) didn't open 'til 8:30. I called the vets office and discovered the reason why bird enthusiasts always tell bird owners to find a certified avian vet ahead of time, just in case there is an emergency... That's me! I like to learn the hard way. The receptionist tells me that she can't give me any referrals just then because the doctor is not in yet and won't be in until 11:30 or 12 noon. Great. What the hell? One of the first things I had to learn about when I tried working at a vets office as a receptionist was the damn referral list. Anyway, I told her I couldn't wait that long and that I'd just find an emergency clinic myself. But trying to find an emergency clinic that treats birds is like trying to find a stand-up toilet in Beijing, China. And like the toilets in China, vets can either be comfortable to use or...



Ughckghghg... Since I couldn't wait, little miss receptionist actually had a suggestion...there was a vet that treated birds at an emergency clinic that was about 25 minutes from where I worked. Okay, it's in kind of a shitty area, but that means it shouldn't be too expensive. Thank you, buh-bye. I called the clinic to make them aware that I was coming with an injured bird and off I went. It was already starting to get hot as I drove deeper into the valley, reminding me that I cannot go another summer without fixing my cars air conditioner. I finally get to the clinic and after signing in, filling out the appropriate paperwork for new patients and then sitting there for the next 30 minutes pretending to care when all the stupid dog and cat people keep telling me what a lovely "parakeet" I have. I give up on explaining to the unobservant idiots in this world that there are other types of small pet birds besides parakeets. As the lady next to me continues to talk about her case of the shingles (gag) I get called up to the front. The receptionist who had told me to come in then explains to me that the only doctor there who treats birds is about to go into surgery and can't see Pickles until THE NEXT EVENING at SEVEN PEE-EM. Not even the next morning!!! "WHAT?! This is an EMERGENCY. I told you THIS ON THE PHONE!" Time to get pissed. Get me a referral, bitch, or I will break off your fucking blue acrylic talons and shove them up your giant nostrils. I swear, what IS it with women who think twelve-inch fingernails look good?! Uh...1985 called... Of course I was polite, but you know...I was a pissed polite.

I sat back down and stared at the piss on the floor for another ten minutes while they tried to find another avian vet. By this time I was really starting to worry about my poor little birdie. The entire time, on the ride there, during the endless waiting, I talked to Pickles and told him it was gonna be okay. He acted normal, except for the favoring of one leg. That and the plucking. Every time he gets stressed he just rips out patches of feathers. SO awful to watch. Talon girl finally give me the good news that there is an exotic vet, whose specialty is birds (YAY!), will be able to see Pickles. She too, was about to go into surgery so I had to get my ass there fast. So back on the hot freeway, past my work, to another vet in the valley. When I arrived I was happy to see that it was a nice office, not a shitty clinic. I was worried it would be expensive but I had no choice. The other place was gross and crowded with both clients and people behind the counter. This office was cool, clean and there were only two knowlegable receptionists to help me. All around were posters and information pertaining to exotic animals. There were even lovely arcrylic cages built into the wall with a couple of baby parrots for sale...at really good prices I might add. After filling out the paperwork I sat down next to a beautiful display with a Chinese water dragon in it.

Five minutes later I'm called into the exam room where a nice vet tech gently takes Pickles and weighs him. Two minutes after she leaves the doctor, who bears a striking resemblace to Glenn Close, comes in. I explain what happened in my guilt-stricken manner and she immediately puts me at ease. She gently examines Pickles' leg and finds the hurty spot (BEEP!! BEEEEP!!) right away. Truns out he broke his little tiiiiiny birdie femur. AWWWW!!! So Glenn gives me my options. They can either do surgery and put a pin in his leg or just let it heal on its own. She strongly suggested letting it heal on its own since he is such a small, light bird. I agreed because I didn't want risk putting such a small bird under. Not to mention cost. It would probably cost $300 to anesthetize alone. If I have to, depending on the prognosis of course, I will. But if I've got the option... She was very sweet and reassured me that he would be fine. It was a very good experience altogether. And not as expensive as I thought it would be. The good news, after all of this crap, is that I've found a very reputable avian vet...something I should have done a long time ago.

Now I have to keep Pickles in his carrier and give him medicine for two weeks. He is not allowed to fly or climb, two of his favorite things to do as a bird. Naturally. I feel so bad for him and I'm so pissed at myself. Another lesson learned the hard way. How many times have I said that? Great adventure huh? Just what I need. I hate to see animals suffer. Well, I'd better go home and check on the little bugger. Gotta make him as comfortable as I can.