The Canary

Page Forty

sehnen posted on Jun 05, 2008 | views: 43 | Tags: little kidsx

thurs 5 june 2008   Greenfield

All of my 14 kidnapped animals were old or oldish, except one. Back in 2004, when my children and I had just been through eight very difficult months and were about to move again, I promised us a present when we got into the new place. We’d found a new radio station in Albany, and when they did their i.d. every hour they listed every single station they had, and one was in Canajoharie. I fell in love with the word. I told the animals that when we got moved, we’d buy a canary and call him/her Canajoharie. Well, it had been years since I’d worked in a pet shop, and things had changed. Parakeets were no longer $12, they were $25. And canaries weren’t $40, they were $80. That much I wasn’t willing to spend, and I hate the buying and selling of animals anyway. So I settled on a green and yellow parakeet, and at least once a week when I was feeding her I’d say,”I know you think you’re a parakeet, but you’re not. You’re Canajoharie canary.” But since in the end Canajoharie formed a great relationship with the lovebird after his mate died, she probably ended up feeling like neither parakeet nor canary, but a lovebird. I’ve said elsewhere that because the lovebird was born crippled (he was called Tuuschi), he had to eat and drink on the floor. Just a couple of months before we were destroyed, Canajoharie, after watching Tuuschi do this for a long time, started wanting a little of her own food down on the floor so that in the evening she could sit near Tuuschi to eat. All my life I’ve been delighted by the great things animals so often do for each other, even different species of animals. I’ve never in 55 years been without animals for 13 weeks, until now. Until the horrendous Department of Mental Hell helped me. May the ocean’s dogs devour, slowly, every single one of them. Or, may each and every one of them drop dead where they stand, or mostly sit, on their brains.

Update 16 June 2009: What I was told about Canajoharie and Tuuschi last year was that they had been adopted by someone in the Polish catholic church in Turners Falls. Was this true? Possibly, but I had been told so many lies in the months leading up to my eviction that I wasn’t willing to just categorically believe anything coming from a social service agency. Tuuschi was very old and would be dead by now. But Canajoharie was only 4 then, and should still be alive. Mind you, I was never given the kindness of being told which family the birds were with and the kindness of being allowed to visit them. The priest of that same church supposedly ended up keeping my parrot and four of my cats, and again I was never allowed the comfort of visits. The parrot was already 20, and may well be dead. But one cat would be 13 now and the other three 9. They should still be alive, but I’m not allowed to see them. The so-called Christian people of Turners Falls keeping my animals and keeping their secrets all these 15 months, no matter the pain to me. I still despise the Department of Mental Health, and I still despise the people of Turners Falls. Medications have not changed that.

~~~~~~~~~  website  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~