Dominican College of San Rafael - Firebrand Yearbook (San Rafael, CA)

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even go through the door. It got shoved between the bars. Perk's cage lost its shine. It was just a dull prison. His clear plastic seed and water cups got cloudy because I didn't scrub them anymore. Sometimes I'd forget to put his cover on. The next morning I'd feel a little sorry and remember to do it the next night. Feathers werenlt every- thing. Through all this Perky would still sing. He began ac- companying the sound of running water and food being fried instead of music. His hearing was going. His hops and jumps got a little slower and fewer. He didn't use his swing anymore. I learned that a canary is old at ten. That came as a jolt. I never really gave much thought to anything get- ting old when I was eighteen. I began being nice to Perk again. I started thinking about him. He could do any- thing he wanted now. Old age was a generous excuse. Even though be stuck his tongue out at me when I would do something for him. I worried about who l54

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plastic cup until everyone was out of the room. Five minutes later he would be jumping around eyeing the sat- urated newspapers beneath him. Wanting me to change his bathroom back to a living room with a white gravel rug. At night I carefully covered him with his own red and yellow cotton sheet. His head missing. Just a funny shaped ball next to his cuddle bone. Perk loved summertime. He liked being hung on the side porch with the pink hollyhocks waving with the wind right outside his front door. He enjoyed having us around him all day. Singing to his heart's content. Not having to live forthe clock saying three. I guess it was about four or five years later that things began to change. It became a chore to check him for food and water every day. It became a real effort to hang him outside. Mostly I just forgot. I begrudged him the time I had to spend with his bath and his floor. He sensed this and deliberately antagonized me by waiting half an hour before deciding to splash around. Well, I had more in- teresting things to do, people to see, places to go. The usual story. High school came and went. Taking care of Perk was no longer a chore. It became a habit. Mechanical. No feel- ing. If he didn't lake a bath in live minutes. Tough. No bath for him that week. If he wanted to be diity it was his problem. Apparently he liked the idea. Sometimes he co- operated. Sometimes he didn't. As soon as I walked in the door after school he'd start chirping. This was the signal to get the egg cake out. I moistened it and slammed it into its special little yellow cup. After a while I didn't l53

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g would watch him when I went away to school. I was made many promises, but I learned that you can't trust mothers and brothers for everything. I'd walk in the door on a Friday afternoon and head straight for Perk. His water cup was nearly always hone dry. It probably upset me more than it did him. He survived every time. Then his feathers started to go. Not just molting. He soon devel- oped a bald scrawny neck which he valiantly tried to hide from me. Protecting me from its ugliness. I knew he was going to die soon. Arthritis had set in. He couldn't get up to the high bars. He couldn't straighten his legs. They turned white and scaly. Not strong enough to land on. He huddled between his food and his water. No more baths. No more singing. I saw that the room didnit get too cold. That his blanket was left on during the daytime as well as night. He just hunched over the wooden bar all day. Staring. Accusing- , ly. At me or anyone an there. One evening late last l55