Noey

For the past week or so, I've been really missing Noey. If you read the first post about Digby I wrote (which is here if you didn't), you will have already read a bit about her. I think I've been missing her so much because of how much Lenore reminds me of her and because of the cockatiel that I made friends with last time I was at the pet store (that post is here). (I apologise in advance for making a sad post. I just need to get this out.)

Noey was my baby. I don't usually refer to my pets as babies, and I don't think of them as kids like some people, but if any of my pets have ever been that dear to me, Noey would be on that list, along with Bella and Delilah.

Noey was a very good bird. She would greet me the second I walked through my bedroom door. If I was in the hall outside of my bedroom but wasn't coming in, she would call out for me. She loved to snuggle and she loved scritches. If her cage door was opened, she'd happily come out for anybody. She would ride on my shoulder all day if I were to let her, she wasn't afraid of hardly anything, and she was ornery as could be, often stealing food off my plate or trying to pull decorative pieces off my shirt.

Shortly after I got her, I went on a trip to Kansas to visit relatives and took her with me. I had only had her for a couple weeks. She did fabulous. She charmed every one of my relatives that she met. The car ride didn't seem to bother her at all. 

Last Christmas/New Year (2009), we went out to Kansas between Christmas and New Years. I left Noey at home. One of my older brother was to take care of the animals while we were gone.

I have a bit of a sixth sense and I can tell often tell when something bad is about to happen. The moment we crossed the Ohio River and into Louisville on our way home, I started feeling queasy and uneasy and had a general sense of anxiety. (This, by the way, has happened to me more than once. The other most notable occasion was on 9/11, but I'm not going into that.) I tried really hard to push the feeling away and tried to convince myself everything would be fine when we got home. My dad was there, after all, so he would have called us if something bad was happening. Though as hard as I tried, I could not shake the feeling.

When we got home on New Years Eve, I immediately went to my room in the basement and was not greeted by Noey. This would happen on rare occasions, especially if it was late. And it was late, so, again, I tried to tell myself it was nothing. I walked straight to her cage, and she was huddled in one corner, fluffed up. I reached in and offered her my hand, telling her to step up. She didn't respond. I carefully picked her up and rushed upstairs to my parents. I handed her to my mom, while I called the emergency vet and got some Cheerios, one of Noey's favourite treats, out. Noey refused the Cheerios. While I was on the phone with the vet, Noey passed away.

Fly free, Noey. Gone, but never forgotten.