This blog will hopefully help me to cope with my life and the world around me. I hope I can inspire at least someone by posting something every once in a while. Posts will mostly be in English or in Spanish, while Flemish - a dialect of Dutch - is my native language. However, I don't expect to have many visitors if I write in Dutch and I have to admit that sometimes, I can even better express my feelings in a foreign language...
On Sunday morning, April 24th, Chico died and he left me alone with an enormous sadness and some pent-up anger because it was so unfair that my loyal little birdie had died on me. It's been a rough time since then. I've had my difficult moments, but I was especially surprised by the silence left in my room, which was so uncomfortably and extremely clearly noticeable. I knew I couldn't live without another animal in my student room, no matter how tiny the animal is. So I decided to take another bird. I used the Internet and surfed to a special site where people can put all kinds of advertisements for selling practically anything, from time-worn clocks to hyper-modern sports cars. And it was there that I encountered many options, from which only one turned out to be the right one, namely a woman in Gouda who breeds her own parakeets. So it's not without pride that I announce you that last Wednesday, I officially became the new mom of Timo, a five-week-old parakeet.
To find Timo wasn't exactly an easy task. I'm quite picky when it comes to pets. I mean, there has to be that special feeling, on the spot. It has to feel good. It has to be something like love at first sight, an indescribable feeling that tells you that you've made the right decision. And I had this feeling when I first saw Timo. I already knew I wanted a blue parakeet, but I didn't entirely close my heart to anything that wasn't blue. Still, when Ria - the woman who breeds her own parakeets - showed me a young yellow one and another young green-yellow one, I immediately knew that they weren't destined for me. However, then she showed me a third parakeet from the same nest, a blue one. And then the magic happened and right on the spot I knew that that little birdie would become my little Timo. I'd already decided on the name, because I had taken into account the fact that Chico could die and that I'd had to invent another name for a new parakeet, that is, if I wanted one. And indeed, I was sure about it, for Timo it would be. Timo is named after a disciple of Jesus Christ, Timothy. In the first place, I wanted to thank God for the most beautiful times I'd ever had with a parakeet, those seven and a half years with Chico indeed, and I hope that He will bless the life of my new friend and that we will be able to spend many beautiful moments together. I met Timo on April 16th, just two days after Chico died. The problem was that (s)he - we'll only know for sure if Timo is male or female within 6 weeks - was still in the nest and therefore too young to take home. I'd have to wait another two weeks before I could finally take him/her home.
The first time I could hold Timo in my hands...
Protective hands around my little buddy
Looking for some warmth in my hands
I knew those two weeks would probably be the longest two weeks in my entire life, but I was left with little alternative: Timo still needed to be fed by his/her parents, (s)he was not yet ready to come to Leiden. Luckily, last Saturday my parents came, and we went to see Timo once more. It was so good to hold him/her in my hands, and we made some cute pictures of our second encounter:
Second encounter also felt good!
Look at that beautiful head...
Even closer to me...
Already kissing on the second encounter!
In the meantime I received pictures and regular updates from Ria. A few days after my parents and I had visited, Ria sent me these pictures:
Chico's mommy and daddy still caring for their offspring
Who can spot Timo in this picture? Hint: he's blue ;)
And then, on Tuesday, I received good news from Ria: two siblings from Timo had fledged, and it was only a matter of days before Timo would follow their suit, as(s) he was the third in row to have hatched, which means that (s)he would also be the third in row to fledge. I was putting my hopes on Wednesday, because then I could go to Gouda for sure. I was paying attention during my Brazilian Portuguese lesson when I suddenly received a text message on my mobile phone: Timo had fledged! And I could go and pick him/her up that same evening! I was so excited, and that night we went to Gouda to pick up my new little comrade. I can guarantee you, it's quite a challenging experience, because Timo still refuses to eat and drink if I don't help him/her with it. So there's still much to learn. This is the second complete day we are together, and this feels so good. It makes up for the dread and sadness I feel for Chico. One thing is sure: Timo won't be a replacement for Chico, because that's just impossible. Timo is a brother or sister for Chico, and (s)he will have his/her own character, which is good. I'll certainly call for Chico if I mean Timo, and there willl be moments in which I will think back to how Chico would have reacted. But I don't want Timo to feel less worthy of my love, because Chico was a completely different bird with a completely different attitude towards me and other people.
First day in Leiden and already looking for warmth and protection...
Adapting to my cage and a new environment...
Already eating very well!
It's getting late, I should go to bed. Timo is also very tired and already asleep. I'm glad to have him/her with me. It's still a matter of getting acquainted to each other, but in the end it will work out well. Now is the time to dedicate all the time and attention I can to Timo, because that's how you can make them tame. Today, it seemed as if Timo already felt more at home: whistling, trying to fly - but not succeeding yet - eating and drinking, and of course, being admired by visitors. I can easily caress Timo, or even give him/her kisses everywhere. (S)he seems to like it. So all of you who want to come and visit us, you're welcome! Don't forget to warn me beforehand. And let's pray that I can easily spend as many years with Timo as I've had with Chico, if not, more. Chico will never be forgotten. He was such a loverboy and a real warrior. He didn't want to die yet, he wanted to spend many more years with me. But it was decided differently... Now I have Timo, and I will respect the wishes of my new buddy. I'll try to be the best parakeet-mom in the entire world, you can be sure of that! PS: If you want to visit us, no problem, just give me a call or send me a message or e-mail, or write a comment on this post. PPS: Some family pictures:
Grandma and Timo
Granddad and Timo
Cousin Andy and Timo
Cousin Vicky and Timo
Uncle Thierry and Timo
Aunt Mieke and Timo
Niece Indra and Timo
Mom and Timo
Aunt Katleen and Timo
PPS: You asked for some movies of Timo? Well, here you go! Enjoy!
Today was a beautiful sunny day in the city of Leiden. It seemed as if the entire city's population was outside, laughing, drinking, enjoying the sun and the first day of spring. However, today was also the day that my lovely and much-loved parakeet Chico died. He died this morning in my hands, at 10.33AM. It went terribly fast, and he leaves a sad Debz behind. He'd been ill for two weeks, but yesterday it seemed as if he were feeling better and he seemed to have recovered from his respiratory problems. To the contrary of the days before, he was playing again, talking, enjoying his freedom. Even flying without losing his breath. I was so happy to see him healthy again. However, this morning, after giving him his medication, he had a sort of attack, and he died in my hands. He didn't suffer a lot, it all happened so fast. His tiny body was convulsing, he was making some weird noises, and then it was over. Today was the endpoint of a beautiful 7 and a half years by my side...
R.I.P. Chico 2-10-2005 - 14-4-2013
Chico came into my life after the death of Pimbootje. Pimbootje had been my loyal companion for a mere two years. She died in my hands on October 1st, 2005. And on October 2nd, one of my aunts called me to announce that a parakeet was waiting for me at her place. I couldn't and didn't want to believe it! I didn't even know if I was ready for a new bird already. I went to my aunt's house, on condition that it was a young, male and blue parakeet. Otherwise, I wouldn't accept it. That much I told my dad who was getting pretty nervous and kind of irritated of all the conditions I was setting. Anyway, when we arrived at my aunt's place and I saw those big black eyes, that tiny pink nose and that - in comparison with the rest of his blue body - big beak, I was completely and irrevocably in love. I knew this was my Chico, my boy. I know now that God brought us together for a reason: to have a happy and worthy life together and to spend as many beautiful moments as possible together.
You know, Chico was such a cheerful companion: always whistling when I came in, begging to leave his cage, always begging to taste some human food. He ate practically everything, even chicken, fish and pizza. Oh, how he loved to eat the ham from the pizza Hawaï! I have many pictures showing Chico eating something, but I want to share with you some of the last ones I took. These were taken last Friday:
I always told people that in reality, Chico wasn't a bird, but in fact a human being put in the body of a parakeet. Somehow, God made a mistake and put him - I think - on purpose in the wrong body. I mean, Chico certainly felt my emotions and reacted upon them. When I was sad, he was always by my side. When I was crying, he even drank my tears. When I was happy, he flapped his wings. He just adored the noise of creaking plastic and paper being torn apart. It made him whistle even harder than usually. What other habits did he have? Oh yes, he used to attack and damage my books and - mostly important - papers with his tiny beak. I'm happy now to have a few books and papers wearing the traces of a parakeet named Chico. It's his signature. Now he's lying in my fridge, waiting until Tuesday, when somebody is going to take Chico with him to stuff him. Some people find the thought repulsive, but for me it's a small comfort that I'll still have him at my side. I've done it before with two other parakeets, Pimbootje and Prutske II. They are still with me, although they are very silent right now. I'll have a lot of trouble adjusting to the fact that Chico will be standing there, as silent as he never ever was. I mean, my room is so terribly quiet right now. You immediately notice something is wrong, something is missing here. And that is the presence of my lovely blue boy...
Chico was a very sociable parakeet. He usually didn't have trouble to greet strangers. Mostly, he first flew to one of his small playgrounds to observe the stranger, but soon after that he went to say hi to him or her by flying to his/her shoulder. That was his favourite place, the shoulder. Or maybe the second best place, because he enjoyed his playgrounds, especially the big one at the mirror. You know, last Wednesday we were watching the Champions League game Barça - Paris Saint Germain together, and he spent the entire game sitting on my right shoulder. He flew two or three times to his cage to eat and drink, but immediately after that he returned to the safety of my shoulder. Last Friday, this picture was taken and I've converted it into my Facebook profile picture:
Luckily I made some movies and pictures during the past two weeks, because everyone, including myself, had to admit that Chico's health was deteriorating. And fast, it seemed. It started a couple of weeks ago, when he was barely awake during the day. He sat in his cage more often than usually, and he enjoyed sleeping on his favourite places in my room. I thought he was just enjoying his old age, because let's be honest, 7 and a half years for a parakeet is a normal, if not high, age. It could have been a lot more, yes, but at the same time it could have been a lot less too, and I'm thankful to God for every single moment we spent together. The past two weeks he'd been suffering from respiratory problems and loss of balance. Something was wrong, that much was clear, but what? And as he couldn't handle any stress - for that would cause his respiration to go even faster - I decided not to take him to the vet, because then he has to go into a small cage he doesn't like at all. So I spared him the stress. I did call the vet, and she subscribed him some meds that would take away any infection, if there was one. The meds seemed to help, until today... Here follows a movie made last week. Just press the button and enjoy his craziness...
Although we both knew that something was terribly wrong, we didn't admit defeat, and especially Chico not, because he really didn't want to die. He wanted to be with me a little while longer. He was fighting as I've never seen before. A truly worthy Kung-fu parakeet! Every time he was short of breath, he took the time to recover, and he never complained. I mean, he kept on flying from one place to the other, whether he was short of breath or not. He was so exceedingly obnoxious, just like his boss... Let's dig up some old pictures of Chico, when he was still young and as vital as could be.
Luckily I have all these beautiful pictures and movies to cherish the quality time moments spent together. I just have to admit defeat now, and I have to trust that he is now with God, watching from above, watching my every move. I'll show you two videos made a short while ago: (The second video seems boring at the beginning, but keep on watching and you'll hear Chico talk!)
Dear Chico, lief keppetje, broerke van me, I'm going to miss you so very much. Only you know how much you meant to me. It'll be so tough to go on without you... No more sharing of food - and preferably everything sweet! - no more reading the bible together... You were always eager to hear me read the word of God aloud... No more talking to moving bottles or any wall you could find in my room, no more kisses, no more flying around my room... You have no idea how broken-hearted I am right now. There are no words to express how sad I am and how deep my love was and still is for you... Gonna miss you, buddy. Or to say it in your own words: "Te quiero Chico"...
My deceased little warrior, in the lap of his favourite bear, Lotje
Will there come another little animal in my life? I do think so. I'm keeping my eyes open to find a worthy brother or sister for Chico. I have my specific conditions once again: blue, male, baby parakeet or forpus parrot. A forpus parrot is the smallest parrot on this plannet. Here's what they look like:
Things will never be the same again, but I can't bear the silence in my room right now. I know I should go to sleep, but I feel so restless... I know that a baby parakeet or parrot could do wonders. I'll keep you posted. Keep your fingers crossed that I encounter the bird that is destined for me. It has to be love at first sight, I know exactly how it has to feel. Maybe I'll have to be patient, that's possible. But I hope God gives me another wondrous animal so that we can share beautiful moments together. I want to end this post with a poem my aunt found on the Internet, and the picture she made to accompany the text:
I was chosen today, I'm learning to fly, The world took me away, but please don't you cry.
And I chose you today to try and be strong so please don't you cry and don't say that I'm gone.
When you're feeling alone, just remember our love. I'm up near the stars, looking down from above.
Remember our love, In a moment you'll see, that I'm still here beside you when you're thinking of me.
It's almost been a year since my first post on this blog. Waw, time flies! And not only in this respect. So I think I can officially declare myself an addicted blogger now. Or maybe rather a dedicated blogger. I try to post once a week, and unless I'm somewhere in France, where the Internet in the bungalow park is ridiculously expensive, I somehow manage to post something every once in a while. Still, there is much I still have to learn about blogging. I'm not only referring to polishing my English and my writing style, but I'm especially and more specifically referring to a fact I hadn't really taken into account until now, which is that the entire world can read what I write. Obviously I was somehow aware of that fact, because when I look at my Visitor Globe and when I spy on the whereabouts of people on Feedjit - which I recently renamed "I am watching you!" - I should have known better. However, recently something has happened that has opened my eyes, and I realise I should be more careful, not only with what I write, but especially with how I express myself.
You know, I see this blog as a place in which I can find some relief when I'm having a hard time. It helps me to cope with the problems in my life. Somehow, I share this with the entire world, I do realise that, but it's especially a confrontation with myself and my own world of thoughts. This blog has practically replaced my old-fashioned diaries. Since September 1st 2000, I've been writing regularly in a diary. It's a notebook in A5 format - called Atoma - and you can hardly find them here in the Netherlands, but the majority was bought in Belgium. I'm halfway number 21, so I've written a lot already. That's the least that can be said about it. At the beginning, I wrote in it on a daily basis. Sometimes in Dutch, sometimes in English or Spanish. Some therapists have read parts of the entire "thing", and some even recommended me to publish parts of it, but no thanks, that is just too personal. And maybe that is the mistake I've made on this blog. Maybe I crossed that boundary between "personal" and "too personal".
Yes, I'm referring to a recent post, namely this one, and then especially to the part in which I wrote I was so angry that I could kill someone. And yes, I also wrote about my fantasies in which I shoot a handful of people. But people, please do realise that that is in my FANTASY world, and that there is a boundary between reality and fantasy, and that, if I stick to my meds, which I've been doing for a very long time, nothing of that will ever happen. I'm sorry if I scared some of you off, that was not at all my intention. So I think I should apologise for that. You know, I've been having these fantasies for 13 years now... 13 years, that is! And nothing whatsoever has happened. I'm not planning to change that.
I'm a free person however, and I thought I could freely write about my - once again with emphasis - FANTASY world, but apparently it doesn't work like that. People get worried, even scared. That changes a whole lot of things, I can guarantee you. I've had four conversations today about the same topic, with four different points of view, and it's difficult to grasp the general message out of it, but I decided to follow my first thought, which was writing something like I'm writing right now. No way that I would buy a gun and go and shoot some people. People who really care about me should know that. So maybe, dear reader, you should get to know me better. Then you'll see there's no way that I would do such thing. Yes, I am a borderliner, and yes, I've been - and still am - quite unstable at the moment, and yes, you probably never know with people having psychiatric problems. Still... If you'd know how much love I have in my heart... for God, for my family, my friends, and especially my little birdie Chico, who seems to be on the verge of dying and leaving me forever... I'm not kidding, he's 7 and a half, which is fairly old for a common parakeet... I don't want to lose him, but he's getting worse every day. I'm so afraid to find him dead one day when I wake up. Every morning brings its own sorrows, but this is a particularly heavy one, and - as much as I dislike it - an unavoidable one...
My little Chico, how he is today, just enjoying his old age...
Anyway, I'll be more careful with what I write from now on and with how I formulate some things. I probably shouldn't write when I'm angry. However, I still consider myself a free writer, with freedom of speech. But if you as a reader of this blog thinks I'm going too far, no matter the topic, just write me an e-mail or post an anonymous comment on my blog. I'll appreciate it. Please don't react directly on my Facebook-link for the post in question. Then everybody will know about it, including my mom, and that is not good, not at all. For now I hope that I've reassured all those who had some doubts on that specific post. I'll make sure that I take my meds, in order to impede that reality and fantasy blend and that it becomes unclear what is reality and what is fantasy. Deal?
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