My last parakeet was named Feaz. She was my almost-constant companion for five years. Some people think it's strange, how devoted I am (was) to her, but most people don't know all that she did for me.
Feaz (rhymes with 'cheese') was green and yellow. She didn't talk or do many tricks, but she'd hop onto my hand when I said 'come'...unless she didn't want to, in which case, she'd give me a soft warning bite. We had quite the rapport. I learned some of her language, and could respond in kind to her chortles and peeps. I got her when I was in the sixth grade...I'm seventeen now...it's still hard to envision the future without her.
Several times, she kept me from killing myself. I'd tell her all my worries, whatever I couldn't tell anyone else. She was the greatest listener I've ever encountered. Whenever I was about to go over the edge, I'd look at her beautiful visage and remind myself that leaving her would be more awful than any misery I'd encountered yet.
Since she died, I've felt more helpless than I ever dreamed was possible.
She died in early February at my friend's house...I'd housed her over there because I was homeless for a while and I'd lived in several shelters that didn't allow pets. It was so hard, being without her. She died when a heavy dish fell from the side of the 8-foot tall cage (my friend has many parakeets that he houses in that cage) and on top of her. She's buried in my garden with a placard that says 'Feaz - 1993 - 1998' on it, plus the runic symbol for illumination. I still talk to her, and I write long letters to her nearly every night. It's not easy living without my little Feaz, but deep in my heart I know she would've wanted me to go on.
- Submitted by Tremor1950@aol.com