Dancer Continues On
After Sunny was gone, Dancer became her old self again -- squawking happily, flapping her wings for a bath, dancing on her perch. She thrived for another three years after Happy left us. She survived being almost eaten by our dog Neea-Kha, about whom much is written in subsequent pages.
Because we had a curious young dog by this time, the door to the livingroom was always closed -- firm rule: the livingroom door is always closed. Greg spent most of his time in the livingroom with Dancer; Neea-Kha and I spent most of our time in the rest of the house. One fine day, Greg emerged from the livingroom and we sat in the kitchen, having coffee. Minutes went by before Greg inquired as to Neea-Kha's whereabouts. The words were no sooner out of his mouth when we heard a large squeal (not squawk) from the livingroom. We ran to the room where we saw Neea-Kha pulling Dancer's feathers out. Greg hollered and as he grabbed the dog, she grabbed Dancer's head in her mouth. Greg forced her mouth open and I thought her jaw would break. I grabbed Neea-Kha, Greg extricated Dancer. As he rushed the bird to her cage, I rushed the dog to another room and shut the door. I was by that time, a typical hysterical female. Greg rushed to the car, I let the dog into the kitchen, and off to the vet we went. I was still sobbing and hyperventilating when we got to the office, reinforcing the assistant vet's opinion of the female gender. X-rays showed a punctured sinus that would heal in a few days. The vet explained about a dog's prey instinct, and about how dogs pull the feathers of a bird out before they actually eat the bird. I'm glad that was the first, albeit the last, time our dog chose to be a picky eater!
Dancer survived the move from her large livingroom to a set of three rooms upstairs, where Greg moved while we were in pre-separation mode. She survived until the day of our final separation a year later -- moving day. I had just finished moving out the last load of my possessions and had come back to get my dog. Greg was just coming from the back yard, muddy hands and grim face. He told me that he just finished burying Dancer. He had been sitting talking to her when she gave a loud squawk and fell to the bottom of her cage. I'm sure her pal, Happy was there at that moment to show her to her new home. I asked Greg if he wanted time to say goodbye to Neea-Kha and he assured me he had already done that while I was gone. I didn't linger...this was a day of good byes.
Because we had a curious young dog by this time, the door to the livingroom was always closed -- firm rule: the livingroom door is always closed. Greg spent most of his time in the livingroom with Dancer; Neea-Kha and I spent most of our time in the rest of the house. One fine day, Greg emerged from the livingroom and we sat in the kitchen, having coffee. Minutes went by before Greg inquired as to Neea-Kha's whereabouts. The words were no sooner out of his mouth when we heard a large squeal (not squawk) from the livingroom. We ran to the room where we saw Neea-Kha pulling Dancer's feathers out. Greg hollered and as he grabbed the dog, she grabbed Dancer's head in her mouth. Greg forced her mouth open and I thought her jaw would break. I grabbed Neea-Kha, Greg extricated Dancer. As he rushed the bird to her cage, I rushed the dog to another room and shut the door. I was by that time, a typical hysterical female. Greg rushed to the car, I let the dog into the kitchen, and off to the vet we went. I was still sobbing and hyperventilating when we got to the office, reinforcing the assistant vet's opinion of the female gender. X-rays showed a punctured sinus that would heal in a few days. The vet explained about a dog's prey instinct, and about how dogs pull the feathers of a bird out before they actually eat the bird. I'm glad that was the first, albeit the last, time our dog chose to be a picky eater!
Dancer survived the move from her large livingroom to a set of three rooms upstairs, where Greg moved while we were in pre-separation mode. She survived until the day of our final separation a year later -- moving day. I had just finished moving out the last load of my possessions and had come back to get my dog. Greg was just coming from the back yard, muddy hands and grim face. He told me that he just finished burying Dancer. He had been sitting talking to her when she gave a loud squawk and fell to the bottom of her cage. I'm sure her pal, Happy was there at that moment to show her to her new home. I asked Greg if he wanted time to say goodbye to Neea-Kha and he assured me he had already done that while I was gone. I didn't linger...this was a day of good byes.