I took Mr. Ganymede to the vet this past Friday at the North Center Animal Hospital. His doctor was the ever-so-handsome and knowledgeable Joshua Locher, DVM. All handsomeness aside, Ganymede actually had a decent bill of health. While the vet says he won't deny he might have a virus, he said the only problem he could find was that Gany' was a little underweight. He also suggested we try a new food. On top of that, I have to give Ganymede antibiotics. I can't even get myself to swallow meds and I own my body. How was I going to give droplets to a bird? I sheepishly agreed knowing full well it was going to be hard.
Ganymede has a little pepper in him despite the fact that he's been under the weather. What made me take him to the vet in the first place were his watery droppings and his lack of song, desire to preen, and his extreme over-eating. It seemed like he was throwing most of the food instead of eating it. When I lost my last bird Quatre (Gundam Wing...woot!), I vowed never to let the same thing happen again to another pet. He showed similar signs and I waited too long before I thought of getting to a vet. I felt like some kind of pet abuser. Anyway, When Ganymede was on the floor rooting around (and escaping into new rooms of the house), flying low, and letting me pick him up, I knew something was wrong. When he could barely chirp, that was the last straw. He was naturally a noisy bird. When he was interested in sitting close to me and jumped every time I moved the food container, I knew something was up. Like I keep telling him, I love him too much to let him die. As for right now, he's the closest thing I have to a son.
I'm glad I made the decision to take him to the vet. Still, having to feed a small blue Parakeet medicine is HARD, especially when we're still working on the "step up" and "trust me" concept. We're still at "I like it when you sing to me" and "if you bring food to my face, I might eat it" with a side of "wink at me and I'll wink at you". Long story short, our year together has some kind of bond but not a strong one. I felt like having to catch him to give him medicine would ruin all that. It was bad enough I had to separate him from Vega to make sure he got well. My father laughed and says "now you see what it's like to have to give your kid medicine!" with a huge smile and an anecdote about how crazy I was at 3, challenging him and spitting out my own medicine.
Of course it was hard having to give my "kid" medicine. I should have asked if there were any alternatives other than the antibiotics via a feeder. However, I had a choice between blood work and cultures versus new food and 2 kinds of antibiotics twice a day. I decided it was trauma enough for Ganymede to be in the cold, bright vet's office in the middle of Lincoln Park. Instead, I decided to bite the bullet and try and give him medicine. I figured it would be hard to catch him. I never imagined he'd be such a Mr. Smart Booty and discover biting and head turning. Once I felt his little bird heart thumping through his chest, I felt horrible for having to drug him up. I've been calmly telling him after every dose how sorry I am for scaring him and how much I love him. I'm not sure he understands that. He probably thinks the big black scary thing is trying to kill him. *sigh*
He seems to be better and his droppings aren't all unusual. He's even screaming and trying to chirp a bit when he's up to it. I know I'm doing my part as a bird mommy but I still feel awful for destroying our tiny bond. I just want to hear him sing like he used to and chirp and bob and dance like he did months ago. Watching his decline these past few weeks was a horror. Someday we'll come to understand one another. I guess this is what it's like to be a parent (sort of) doing the best you can and sometimes making those fumbling mistakes with your kids.
Ganymede has a little pepper in him despite the fact that he's been under the weather. What made me take him to the vet in the first place were his watery droppings and his lack of song, desire to preen, and his extreme over-eating. It seemed like he was throwing most of the food instead of eating it. When I lost my last bird Quatre (Gundam Wing...woot!), I vowed never to let the same thing happen again to another pet. He showed similar signs and I waited too long before I thought of getting to a vet. I felt like some kind of pet abuser. Anyway, When Ganymede was on the floor rooting around (and escaping into new rooms of the house), flying low, and letting me pick him up, I knew something was wrong. When he could barely chirp, that was the last straw. He was naturally a noisy bird. When he was interested in sitting close to me and jumped every time I moved the food container, I knew something was up. Like I keep telling him, I love him too much to let him die. As for right now, he's the closest thing I have to a son.
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| A couple of weeks before the vet visit. |
I'm glad I made the decision to take him to the vet. Still, having to feed a small blue Parakeet medicine is HARD, especially when we're still working on the "step up" and "trust me" concept. We're still at "I like it when you sing to me" and "if you bring food to my face, I might eat it" with a side of "wink at me and I'll wink at you". Long story short, our year together has some kind of bond but not a strong one. I felt like having to catch him to give him medicine would ruin all that. It was bad enough I had to separate him from Vega to make sure he got well. My father laughed and says "now you see what it's like to have to give your kid medicine!" with a huge smile and an anecdote about how crazy I was at 3, challenging him and spitting out my own medicine.
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| At the vet, covered up. |
He seems to be better and his droppings aren't all unusual. He's even screaming and trying to chirp a bit when he's up to it. I know I'm doing my part as a bird mommy but I still feel awful for destroying our tiny bond. I just want to hear him sing like he used to and chirp and bob and dance like he did months ago. Watching his decline these past few weeks was a horror. Someday we'll come to understand one another. I guess this is what it's like to be a parent (sort of) doing the best you can and sometimes making those fumbling mistakes with your kids.