I am starting this thread for my little sister, whose pet parakeet, Murray, was killed today by my little brother's pet rats. Please give NICE comments only, and read Murray's story.
My sister got Murray when he was a little baby. She got him sometime in February. My dad purchased him because he had recently had to give away Sarah's pet turtle because he got too big to keep. My mom and Sarah quickly bonded with Murray. My mom had always had some kind of charm with birds. In no time at all she had Murray very tame. But there was something very special about Murray when Sarah first picked him out. He was calm and finger trained right from the beginning.
Murray became my mom's best friend, even though he was supposed to be Sarah's pet. This sorta made Sarah a little jealous, but she has always been a good sis. A little over a month or two after Murray's arrival, we took him out of the cage and he flew onto the rat's cage. Oreo, my pet rat, leaped up and grabbed Murray by the beak, and she dug a chunk out. We got him away and figured he would be dead by next morning. We Were Wrong.
The next morning, Murray was still alive, so we decided to give him a chance. He made it, though his beak was destroyed. It was caved in, where the rat had bitten him, a wedge had been bitten out, and there was only one nostril left. Surprisingly, despite his loss of blood, and lack of nostril, he survived, and surprised us all. Just a couple of months ago, he learned how to talk. At first, it wasn't really talking, just mimicking whistles. But, somewhere in August, we heard the first words: a very garbled "pretty bird". Needless to say, we were all thrilled.
Being homeschooled, we could hear Murray talking quite a lot, as he sat on the edge of his favorite mirror, the one shaped like a wreath, and sang and said "pretty bird". He amused us so, as he would also sit and look at himself and say "pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty!" He also loved my mom. He would fly to her and sit on her shoulder and eat on her shoulder, and talk and play with her necklace, earrings, and hair.
He had a close call with one of our indoor dogs, Penny, where the dog put his whole body in her mouth. But he survived that.
It was just today that he died.
He gets to fly around the house during the day, so he is pretty much free. Well, he flew into the room with the rats, and landed on their cage. I figured this from his previous landing attempts on their cage. Well, when I heard him shrieking, I thought it was just because he was doing his parakeet sounds and making noise. Well he carried on for about 20 seconds until I finnally got up off my butt and went to see what was up.
The horror was unimaginable. He was pulled through the bars of the cage, and the rats were biting his head, and he was shrieking. I stuck my hand in, pulled the rats away, and got Murray off the cage.
But by then, it was too late. He laid in my hands, blood spewing from his crushed head, his eyes half closed. My mom swung open her bedroom door, took one look, and instantly started crying. She just fell on her bed, sobbing. My sister and dad run up to see what is going on, and in a mere second, Sarah, me, and my mom, are all crying.
My dad is a good strong dad who does not cry but speaks his grief. And he comforts. He and Sarah burried Murray in the pet cemetery, right next to Mocha, my poor sister's recently deceased fancy rat, and Ziggedy, my deceased fancy rat.
It is needless to say, Murray will be greatly missed. His favorite mirror is still covered in his tiny little droppings (presents) and not one of us dares to touch them or remove them. They are going to stay there forever, and so is that mirror.
R.I.P MURRAY, THE PRETTY BIRD,
DEC. 2011 - SEP. 2012
My sister got Murray when he was a little baby. She got him sometime in February. My dad purchased him because he had recently had to give away Sarah's pet turtle because he got too big to keep. My mom and Sarah quickly bonded with Murray. My mom had always had some kind of charm with birds. In no time at all she had Murray very tame. But there was something very special about Murray when Sarah first picked him out. He was calm and finger trained right from the beginning.
Murray became my mom's best friend, even though he was supposed to be Sarah's pet. This sorta made Sarah a little jealous, but she has always been a good sis. A little over a month or two after Murray's arrival, we took him out of the cage and he flew onto the rat's cage. Oreo, my pet rat, leaped up and grabbed Murray by the beak, and she dug a chunk out. We got him away and figured he would be dead by next morning. We Were Wrong.
The next morning, Murray was still alive, so we decided to give him a chance. He made it, though his beak was destroyed. It was caved in, where the rat had bitten him, a wedge had been bitten out, and there was only one nostril left. Surprisingly, despite his loss of blood, and lack of nostril, he survived, and surprised us all. Just a couple of months ago, he learned how to talk. At first, it wasn't really talking, just mimicking whistles. But, somewhere in August, we heard the first words: a very garbled "pretty bird". Needless to say, we were all thrilled.
Being homeschooled, we could hear Murray talking quite a lot, as he sat on the edge of his favorite mirror, the one shaped like a wreath, and sang and said "pretty bird". He amused us so, as he would also sit and look at himself and say "pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty!" He also loved my mom. He would fly to her and sit on her shoulder and eat on her shoulder, and talk and play with her necklace, earrings, and hair.
He had a close call with one of our indoor dogs, Penny, where the dog put his whole body in her mouth. But he survived that.
It was just today that he died.
He gets to fly around the house during the day, so he is pretty much free. Well, he flew into the room with the rats, and landed on their cage. I figured this from his previous landing attempts on their cage. Well, when I heard him shrieking, I thought it was just because he was doing his parakeet sounds and making noise. Well he carried on for about 20 seconds until I finnally got up off my butt and went to see what was up.
The horror was unimaginable. He was pulled through the bars of the cage, and the rats were biting his head, and he was shrieking. I stuck my hand in, pulled the rats away, and got Murray off the cage.
But by then, it was too late. He laid in my hands, blood spewing from his crushed head, his eyes half closed. My mom swung open her bedroom door, took one look, and instantly started crying. She just fell on her bed, sobbing. My sister and dad run up to see what is going on, and in a mere second, Sarah, me, and my mom, are all crying.
My dad is a good strong dad who does not cry but speaks his grief. And he comforts. He and Sarah burried Murray in the pet cemetery, right next to Mocha, my poor sister's recently deceased fancy rat, and Ziggedy, my deceased fancy rat.
It is needless to say, Murray will be greatly missed. His favorite mirror is still covered in his tiny little droppings (presents) and not one of us dares to touch them or remove them. They are going to stay there forever, and so is that mirror.
R.I.P MURRAY, THE PRETTY BIRD,
DEC. 2011 - SEP. 2012
