Writer's Block: Lassie, come home!

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At some stage in the early 90s, I was given two budgies in a cage that nobody wanted, people being allergic or too busy or whatever.

I got a book about the wee beasties, and tried to do the best by them. So I got them a little bath thing to put in their cage door, put their cage in the open balcony door in summer and gave them millet to gnaw.

They were two females, one white, very stupid and badly-behaved whom I called Rose for her lack of intelligence, and a blue one, much cleverer, with a nicer voice and generally better manners, whom I called Dorothy.*

One day, I came home, the bath house was pushed aside and Dorothy was gone. Rose, being to stupid and scared to ever leave her cage, stayed with me, braying at me ever morning, until she died from panicked fear at the fireworks going off in our courtyard at the Millennium.

I couldn't blame Dorothy at all as Rose was impossible to live with; and I hope she ended up somewhere nice instead of being eaten by crows.-


* Get the reference?