It's been 8+ months since I had my little almost 16-year old Hannah child put to sleep on April 19, 2004. Sometimes I still cry, sometimes my mind still wants to go "crazy" about it all, sometimes I still scream and cry, and I miss her desperately. It is different now than it was for the first three or so months. I am better, but I am still grieving. I still have a long ways to go. I'm sure I will always have some regrets, but I pray to God I will be able to KNOW in my heart and my mind that what I did was FOR Hannah because I loved her so.

In July, I adopted a couple of dogs from the shelter. I too needed to "save" somebody, was trying to "save" myself, save my heart, and my mind from the unbearable pain I was feeling. I felt so alone, so devastated, all I wanted was my Hannah girl. BUT -- I had a bird -- a bird named Babe. Babe was a tiny little ##atiel that I raised and hand-fed. I saw Babe when he hatched out of his egg in the cage with his mom, Buttercup, and his Dad, Rudy.

Well, Babe just loved me, and he loved Hannah. They were friends. Babe was such a little "pest." All he wanted to do was to crawl all over me and sing all the time, and whistle. He sang the sweetest little tune, and we would whistle back and forth to each other. Babe knew Hannah was sick. Sometimes I would come home and Hannah and Babe would be together on the floor. The night before Hannah died, Babe got up on the bed and got up on Hannah's back. Later, around midnight, in the darkness, Babe began singing his beautiful little song. I know Babe sang this song for his friend Hannah. Somehow, Babe knew. Babe was about 7 years old, and he was raised with Hannah.

On the Monday night of the 3rd month anniversary of Hannah's death, Babe was just right in the next room on top of his cage. I was sitting on my bed trying to find a poem to post for a tribute to my baby Hannah. Babe was singing and singing so happily. I had only days before adopted a little 8-year old Poodle, Maggie. One minute Babe was singing, and the next minute, he was screaming and screeching. I jumped up and saw that Maggie had gotten to him. I grabbed Babe and ran to my neighbor's. Babe lived about 10 minutes. I thought his neck was broken, but my neighbor held him while I ran into the bathroom to get a towel for him. She said that Babe turned his head and followed me with his eyes as I did. Babe died a few minutes later. His neck wasn't broken, the skin wasn't broken, but he was just a little tiny bird, and he must have died from shock.

My little bird Babe, my next best friend in the world, died. And Babe died without my really appreciating him after Hannah died because all I could do was to cry for the loss of my one and only precious, most precious angel girl Hannah. But I loved Babe too. My grief for Hannah was so intense, I thought I would die. I wanted to die when Hannah died. Too late, I realized I did have another precious little bird Babe that I should have been holding and loving like the little fragile angel he was, but I couldn't because I was sick with grief.

That was not the way I would have preferred to learn the lesson that, as much as we are grieving, all of us most likely have other people and/or other animals who love us and whom we love very much as well. I have a brother and a niece and a nephew, lots of people who, if anything happened to them, I would be very, very devastated. In our grief, I know it's really, really hard sometimes because our best friends, our children have been taken from us and some of us have even had to make that decision ourselves.

Life is so fragile, for all of us. We never know how long we or any of our beloved have on this earth. I don't want what happened to me and Babe to happen to anyone else, and I hope by sharing Babe's story, you won't forget like I did that night, to be sure to tell them and show them that you still love them very much too.

I have not, even now, been able to grieve much for Babe or go back and read my stories here about him. I have so far just had to keep that somewhere in the recesses of my mind because it is all still so unbearable to me. I have not been able to grieve for both of them because I'm not sure if I can stand it even now.

I still have Maggie. I almost didn't keep her, but I know she did not mean to kill Babe. She wanted to play with Babe. Of course, I blamed myself so much, and I guess I still do. It hurts. That little Babe, he was really something. I miss his little song, and I miss the Babe kisses too. I would say, "kiss, kiss, Babe," and he would put his little beak to my lips and make a little kissy, kissy sound. I still don't think about him or what happened too much. One day, I will have to, but I'm not ready. This post has been good for me. I hardly ever even talk about the little fella.

I try not to feel guilty when I kiss Maggie's little head like I did Hannah's. I have only told Maggie I love her once. It was months before I could bring myself to kiss her head. Maggie is 8-years old though, someone left her at the shelter. I told Maggie when I first got her that I knew she had lost someone she loved, and that I had lost someone I loved. So, I know it's okay to love Maggie, and I guess it's okay to tell her so and to kiss her on the head. My baby Hannah didn't like to see her mama cry. She would not want me to be all alone, I know that. And Babe, I know he would forgive me. Babe taught me a very, very valuable lesson, poor Babe, he lost his life teaching me so I had to share.

Gifts

They come to us,
from shelters or friends or in any number of ways,
these beings of fur or feather or other outer shells.
They come to us wanting only
to be fed, sheltered, and loved.
And we take them into our homes and our hearts.
They may have prized pedigrees,
or they may be abandoned or abused
and rough around the edges.
But there is something about them,
some sort of light in their eyes
that tells us they are meant for us.
And a sweet dance of love
begins with our new friends.
We watch them delightedly discover their new home,
laugh at the antics of kitten or puppy,
smile as the former lost soul
settles comfortably into our arms.
They become a beloved member of our family,
a reminder of the uninhibited joy
that we have often forgotten how to feel.
The dog that excitedly runs
to greet his human friend returning home,
or the contented cat curled up on a lap
remind us of how large
unfettered love can be.
They come to teach us to remember how to love.
They come to teach us that our hearts,
so often battered by this world that we struggle through,
are still open enough to feel wonder and mystery
and a precious connection to another being.
And we love them, and care for them,
and experience the joy
we thought was lost from our lives.
But life is fragile.
One day, perhaps unexpectedly,
or perhaps after a long struggle with illness,
our precious friends are gone.
And we mourn them deeply.
We feel lost, and alone,
and that the joy is once again gone from our lives.
We feel anger, and pain, and fear.
We question Deity, and wonder why.
Life is fragile.
Their lives are more fragile than ours.
We cannot escape death,
and for it to take our most precious friends,
who ask so little,
seems unfair and too much for us to bear.
But they leave us always with a gift.
They leave us with that love they gave, that joy they sparked.
Our hearts are larger for having loved them.
We are enriched by having these special souls in our lives,
even if it was for too brief a time.
Love never dies.
And the love that was created
by our special friends who came into our lives
is a living thing,
always a part of our being.
We may think our hearts are closing again,
but we cannot erase the fact
that they have been opened.
They teach us love for a reason:
so that we will have it in our hearts always.
Each day, each act of kindness or love,
is a tribute to our furbabies who have moved on.
Honor your special friend with kindness and love.
Each day, reach out to your living furbabies
and let them know how precious they are.
Reach out to others in your life
and let the love your friend brought you live on.
Reach out to others in need, whether human or animal.
I can think of no better gift than the love they teach us.
And I can think of no better way to honor their memories
than by extending that love.
In this way, they will truly live forever.

by Ginger-lyn Summer
20 September 2000

Thankyou for your wonderful post. It is a beautiful story.... I have no doubt that your babe knew exactly how much you loved him even though you were in pain and not doting on him as much as you felt you could have been. I'm having a hard night...can't sleep and am battling depression over Dutchess's illness.... Your story speaks to my heart... as painful as loss is we are meant to love over and over and over again no matter how painful. What would life be with out love. We would be spared some heart ache over loss but at what cost. When we were first getting the news of Dutchess's cancer and illness and seeing her struggle with poor health... I got real short with our healthy boxer because she kept trying to get Dutchess to play. They got a huge Christmas stocking full of toys that I'd picked up 50 per cent off after Christmas last year. Normally they just go nuts running around playing with each other with new toys...tug o war ect. Faith would bring Dutch a toy... and start trying to rough house..I'd yell at Faith to leave her alone. Faith loves to cuddle up next to Dutchess... they often lay on the same dog bed. I'm now realizing that Faith and my two cats need their share of love during this difficult time too.... Maggie is one lucky girl and both you and Maggie are innocent in the very sad incident that ended babe's life. Babe is with your puppy...they have earned the right to the eternal rest and happiness. God bless you in your healing and continuing to love others that need you. (((hugs))) Terri

I was very touched by your story.

I also feel ashamed. I have a seven month old baby that I have been somewhat
distant with because of my grief. My baby had been running me ragged for a while.
I live an hour and a half from my mother, who is 68 years old, and my mother in
law is dead. My husband works 6-7 days a week so that I can stay home with the
baby. I should have taken Hegel cat to the vet sooner. I guess I have somewhat
"blamed" the baby, and myself, for being so lonely, exhausted, etc... Realistically,
I would have dropped everything if I had known something was seriously wrong with
Hegel, and I did the minute I knew. But I had become reclusive, seldom leaving
the house. My whole little world was my baby, and my animals. But of course
the baby was the loudest "squeaky wheel!"
Now that my Hegel is gone, I feel so dead inside, I know that I am not being the
mother, or even wife that I should be. Of course I love my son, but I feel so
empty.
Your are right. We can't forget those that are still here with us, that mean so
much. This is all just so hard.
Thank you for sharing that.

Dear Marcia,
You have strength that you don't even know you have and you just keep pressing on even through your pain. You were one of the 1st to help me when I came to this board. I have followed your story from beginning to end and am so glad I have known you and your great love for Hannah. I am just sorry for the loss and pain that caused us to be here. Just before Snookie died I told her to go to all of the kids from here but I told her not to give funny looks at Babe like she always did Chico our bird. I never knew if she wanted to eat him or play with him. Hugs, Ann

Oh Marcia!
I had no idea you have dealt with so much pain and loss lately! I knew of your deep pain from Hannah, but did not realize you lost Babe too. I am so sorry! As you said, Maggie wasn't trying to kill Babe, I'm sure. It was a new home, new surroundings and what looked like a new friend. Babe is now playing with sweet Hannah again, and sitting on her back singing to her. How loving and comforting that thought is
I hope Babe is singing her sweet song to my Rachael too! I know she must have been scared when she first arrived.

You have given us all a very good reminder! I know my Danny must have felt neglected when Rachael first left. I never even let him see her body, or be present when we buried her. I just felt it would be too hard on him. However, he must have felt left out!

However, part of our decision to get Brandy, was for him. He had always had Rachael to play with, talk with, lay with and keep him company while we were at work. I wanted him to have a new sister to help fill that void for him.

God Bless you Marcia!
Cheri

Oh Marcia, what a beautiful and heartbreaking story. I'm sure Babe and Hannah are hanging out and playing right now.

Marcia,

What a touching story about Babe. I am so sorry that you lost him. What a wonderful relationship Babe and Hannah shared and how sweet that he whistled for Hannah. That is the sweetest thing I have ever heard. Little Maggie didn't know what she was doing. She was just curious and you had no way of knowing what would happen.....so glad you decided to keep her.

We adopted a poodle from the shelter after we first got married. Molly was about 8 years old when we adopted her. She was left at the shelter when her elderly owner could no longer take care of her. She was a really nice little girl who ended up "attaching herself" to my mother. (My dad had died a year before so I was glad that Molly and my mother became so close.)

What wise words, Marcia about appreciating those we still have left. I am having a hard time doing that lately but will certainly try after reading what you said and the "Gifts" that you posted. That was beautiful. I will think of you and not forget to tell my family and pets how much they mean to me. Thank you.

Hegel'smom - thinking of you, too. Hope things get easier for you in time. You have your hands full with your new baby. Everything will get better.

Lynn XXOO

I was just thinking of Babe the other day. I'm glad that you kept Maggie. I'm sure Hannah is happy that you did too.

You have been a wonderful friend to me. You reached out to me during those first weeks when I thought that I was going round the bend. I really appreciate that.

Dear Marcia,

I'm so sorry about Babe. I love birds and hearing the story of Babe and Hannah kind of reminded me of Shiloh and Mr. Winkle. I actually saved Mr. Winkle from Shiloh's jaws of death the day he crash landed in my yard, but after that initial meeting Shiloh and Mr. Winkle became very good friends. She would walk up to his cage and sniff him, he would come and be close to her. He loved to hear her bark...she would bark and he would sing. The night I had Shiloh put down, Shiloh laid on my bed most of the evening and Mr. Winkle sang to her. It was so strange, when the vet arrived and started explaining the procedure, Mr. Winkle stopped singing and hid his head under his wing...it was like he didn't want to hear about what would happen to Shiloh. When the vet started the procedure, he started singing again and didn't stop until Shiloh was gone.

Your story about Babe and Hannah was beautiful. And the lesson is a very valuable one for all of us, and one that I can certainly take to heart. I love and adore each one of my furred and feathered babies, but sometimes I've failed to see them through all the tears I've shed for Shiloh. I do need to take time to love and cherish each second I have with them.


Thank you, Marcia, you're such a wise angel.
Love,
Kathleen

Marcia,

I'm so sorry for you to have a lost a pet that way, although no way is good. I would love to have a bird but for me the problem is they live so long. After I die, what would happen to the bird? Birds have so much personality. Whenever I go to my petstore I watch and talk to the birds. I love how the birds watch you and act so shy, but then when you walk away they carry on like lunatics until you come back. Would you ever think about getting another bird?

Oh how sad of time that had to be for you, alot of things at once! The fact that you are speaking of it must mean it is coming to the surface and that's a good thing. Take care Pamela

Kathleen, - That Mr. Winkle! (What kind of bird was he?) How wonderful that he was buddies with beautiful Shiloh. Made me cry to read of the night the vet was at your house and Mr. Winkle was singing. That is very sad and sweet at the same time, especially when you said he his head under his wing. What a smart little birdie.

Lynn

Mr. Winkle aka Perry Winkle is a little parakeet that at first glance I thought was a mountain blue bird. It wasn't until he crashed into my sliding glass door that I realized he was a lost parakeet. When he crashed, I ran outside immediately just in time to see him flying as fast as he could with Shiloh in very close persuit. I called her back just as he crashed into some bushes. I went up to him and put my finger in front of him and he hopped on. I carried him in the house and he's been a member of the family ever since (that was about 1 1/2 years ago). After their initial meeting, Shiloh and Mr. Winkle became quite good friends.

When he put his head under his wing the night Shiloh was put down, I figured that was parakeet for putting his fingers in his ears and saying "La La La." Someday I'll share the whole story of the night Shiloh died...it's very touching...even the vet was touched and amazed.

Kathleen,

Just the little bit you posted about Mr. Winkle and the night Shiloh died impressed me so much. I'd surely love to hear the whole story, when you feel you're ready to share it.

Lynn