I press my cheek against the bitterness of the bath's tiles, listening to your labored, wavering breaths spill from your beak. You lay in a crate above me, wrapped into the warmth of a blanket with your eyes clasped tight. Your crop is engorged with food, hardened against your feathers. Your body holds little life, you, a long-time friend, are on the brink of expiration. Within any second now, you could wisp away, far, far away, to a place not known or heard of by man. As the tears brim over from my lids, I think to myself, those thoughts are coming. The thoughts that remind you what an unethical crone mother nature depicts herself as. --- One of my beloved hens, Zinnia, is slowly passing on at the tender age of three. I spent a good portion of my evening laying with her one last time, wishing there was more I could do for her. She will be missed by her family and friends.
I am so sorry. I have been there and felt the same heartbreak you are. My thoughts and a tear go out to you and your babies.
Thank you. Unfortunately, she passed on last night. I did all I could, but at least she is no longer in pain.
I'm so sorry for your loss. I'm sure she was very special to you. One thing that comforts me, is, silly as it sounds, I say to myself "she isn't really gone, I just can't see her anymore...". It does help, but I understand if you want to face her being really gone. I want to make you feel better, but I know that only time can ease your pain. *Hugs*.
