My adorable tiny dog Toni died two months ago.
I have taken it hard – and, overall, am doing pretty well. In the here-and-now, I’m mostly in the here-and-now. One thing that has helped has been parrots! I don’t know how, I don’t know why…I’ll explore all this in future posts. But parrots – and one particular parrot, Oliver.
I’ll eventually say lots more about the eclectus parrot Oliver, but enough now to say that I’m on track to foster and then adopt him – how soon I don’t know. At this writing, we’ve only seen each other twice – for five minutes and then two hours. (He sat on my shoulder a lot.) Snowy roads are going to keep me from seeing him today (Tuesday). I’m going to another workshop at Phoenix Landing on Saturday and have planned to spend time with Oliver afterwards.
Having been an adoptive parent of my amazing 43 year old son, I recognize in myself now some of the same insecurities I had 43 years ago (Terry was 5 1/2 months old):
He’s so different from me. Terry was a baby. Not a different species – now that’s really different. I know what it’s like to be a human person – but a bird?
Will I be adequate to the task?
Will this wreck my life?
Needless to say, my progress towards adopting a parrot has not been a straight line. In a very real way, this blog is a journal of that journey towards “parronthood” (thanks Jennifer Cunha). Knowing that this journey does not end with the adoption.
In perhaps a cock-eyed way, this will be a story of parenthood…and about adoption…and about birds…and about the “Kinship with All Life.” And about one neurotic, PTSD, bipolar, creative, over-educated, retired-with-time-on-his-hands – and dare I say “courageous” 72 year old man. Walk with me.