‘Believe in people’s goodness to attract that to you.’
BOO BOO
Boo Boo passed over on 6 May 2009, aged 12 and a half. His guardian, Roz, was a tall woman, aged 45 and living in London. She’d not been able to say goodbye because Boo Boo’s death had been sudden and tragic. It had been an accident, but Roz felt responsible and sick with guilt, which was consuming her day by day.
Roz’s decision to share her life with another sentient being had not been an easy one. It had meant the end of her days in rehab for one eating disorder or another, one addiction or another. ‘It was time to grow up and take responsibility, not only for myself, but for another being,’ she admitted.
As a child, she had had budgerigars as family pets, so she knew they were special little birds, but nothing had prepared her for the uniqueness of Boo.
She had set her heart on a blue male budgie and had been reassured by the breeder she approached that he had all colours, but disappointment struck when she arrived because there were no blue budgies. Instead the breeder showed her two dominant pied brothers. He put both birds into a show cage and when Roz put her finger through the bars, the one she considered bolder but less beautiful walked over and held the tip of it with his foot.
‘It was as if he’d chosen me,’ she shared. ‘I knew I would always regret it if I didn’t take him home.’
Roz and Boo became inseparable. They shared meals from the same plate; Boo loved vegetables, fruit, wholegrain rice and toast. Between mouthfuls he would stretch his earnest little face towards Roz for a quick kiss and cuddle.
From the age of one he began to learn a huge vocabulary and eventually made up his own sentences, always getting nouns and verbs in the right place: ‘Who’s my boy? Are you a deeeear little munchkin? I love you. Are you OK? Heeeeeello! Wicky, wicky, wild, wild pest! You’re a beeeeautiful little bird, aren’t you? Baby Boo! You’re a special Boo! Aren’t you gorgeous! What a cute little sausage!’
When Roz needed Boo to go inside his cage she just said ‘Innn you pop!’ and he would ‘run’ – move at a high-speed waddle – across the cage top, abseil down the bars to his outdoor perch and hop inside, pulling the door shut as he went.
Boo spent a lot of time on the top of his cage playing with various balls, bells and weighted toys that hit him back on the beak if he attacked them. He thought it hilarious to throw all these toys off and get Roz to pick them all up again. He also had a thing about red biros and liked chasing the writing, and his idea of bliss was to roll around in a huge bunch of wet parsley until he was totally soaked.
Trust blossomed between him and his guardian, and Roz used to get her face preened, even her eyelashes. Boo would often press his head under her nose or climb onto her shoulder, where he’d snuggle into her neck and fall asleep. He could be just as gentle with strangers, but if he felt uneasy he’d go back inside his cage and pull the door shut behind him. Then, when he felt safe enough, he’d come out and reintroduce himself.
Roz went back to college to study garden design, which led to her becoming a professional garden designer and two years later a part-time teacher at the college while continuing her garden business the rest of the time. Boo accepted everything without complaint and always gave her a head-bobbing welcome home, accompanied by taps on her nose and lips with his beak.
In April 2004 they moved house and soon after Boo became ill. Roz felt the stress of the move had weakened his immune system.
‘I was very worried, since birds only show symptoms of illness if they are very sick. It was a Sunday and we’d never needed a vet. I got him an emergency veterinary appointment; however, it turned out the vet knew very little about birds. Boo was given an antibiotic shot and I was given contact numbers for the only two avian vets in London. The next day one of these vets diagnosed Boo with psittacosis.’
Psittacosis, also known as parrot fever, is a disease caused by the bacteria Chlamydia psittaci.
‘I thought I was going to lose him,’ Roz said, ‘but he did recover. However, he was never 100 per cent after that.’
Boo began to get arthritis and found it increasingly difficult to fly. He began to leap off his cage onto the hard floor for no apparent reason. Roz felt the new house had strange creaks and crackles, which unsettled him. After one episode she noticed his ankle was swelling. It was the start of gout and so Boo’s leg ring had to be removed before it became uncomfortable. An X-ray showed his bones were very thin and mottled.
‘I didn’t know he should have been having calcium and vitamin D supplements due to lack of natural sunlight,’ Roz shared.
Roz surrounded Boo’s cage with bath mats and rugs, but on the odd occasion he would throw himself further than expected and miss them. This resulted in a fracture to one wing and another fracture to the hip. By now Boo was receiving daily medication for gout, and painkillers too. Medication soon became twice daily, but he was always very good and would jump onto Roz’s hand when she asked him and allow her to syringe them into his mouth.
Roz decided to add to her avian family. She found a four-month-old blue-headed Pionus parrot right at the end of the breeding season and, just after Boo’s eleventh birthday, he came into their lives.
‘Kobe loved Boo from the moment his zygodactyly clawed feet arrived in his new home and he’d copy everything Boo did: when Boo preened, Kobe preened; when Boo ate, Kobe ate. Boo even taught Kobe to say “Hello!” But Kobe’s arrival was not all good news. He was a playful baby and would sometimes fly too close to Boo and startle him into jumping off his cage.’
Roz tried to encourage Boo to stay inside, but he wanted to be out on top of his cage as he’d always been. He even had a budgie tantrum if Roz kept the cage door shut: he’d climb using his good foot and beak and vocalize until she opened it.
Due to his gout, Boo couldn’t abseil any more, and he couldn’t climb down the spiral rope perch alternative, so if Roz wasn’t there and he wanted to go in, he’d leap. Roz piled up more bath mats and when she was there she began to predict when he’d leap and run to catch him.
One night about 10 o’clock Boo was in a rush to enter his cage. Roz saw him preparing to jump and just managed to catch him in time. However, the relief was short-lived. Kobe wanted to see what all the commotion was about and appeared out of nowhere. He landed on Roz’s wrist and Boo went tumbling out of her hands onto a hard stone part of the floor.
‘How I pleaded for time to reverse just a few seconds, but it didn’t. Boo lay on the floor with his leg broken. I gently picked him up and placed him in a homemade hospital cage with bubble wrap and towels. The vets were shut, so I couldn’t get him help until the next morning. All I could do was give him painkillers and his favourite toy bell. It was the worst and longest night of our lives. As soon as the vet opened, I took Boo in, leaving Kobe covered and still sleeping.
The rush-hour traffic was horrendous that morning and it doubled the normal journey. Tears streamed down my face the whole way. Boo lay on his hospital cage in the passenger seat, trying to play with his bell.
When we arrived we had to wait our turn in the waiting room. When the vet came to us he was cross because I hadn’t given Boo any painkillers that morning. I was too upset to say I hadn’t known whether to or not, as I had been concerned they could counteract the anaesthetic. The vet told me they’d operate later and Boo was taken out the back.
As the veterinary staff handed me his empty cage they explained that I wasn’t allowed to stay with him. I left the surgery sobbing. Somehow I knew I would never see him again. It took half an hour to compose myself before I could drive home.’
Roz waited with Kobe all morning for news. Then at 12:28 p.m. the phone rang.
‘We just lost him,’ the voice said. ‘We managed to bind his leg and he was coming round from the anaesthetic, but then it appeared as though he just gave up.’
Roz told the vet it wasn’t his fault and thanked him for what he’d done. He offered to bury Boo in the park because Roz didn’t have a garden, but she declined and instead agreed to have him cremated.
‘My soul mate of almost 13 years had just gone. I cried and cried. Very soon the “what if”, “if only” and “I shouldn’t have” thoughts began to race through my mind. What if I’d given him painkillers that morning? If only I hadn’t dropped him… I shouldn’t have got Kobe.
My world was empty without Boo. I felt totally lost. The guilt was crippling and I didn’t go into work for the rest of the week.’
Roz came across my book and after locating my website e-mailed a list of questions and messages for Boo.
‘I never said goodbye to him,’ she wrote. ‘There is still so much left unsaid and I feel so guilty. More than anything, I want to tell him how sorry I feel.’
I don’t receive as many bird clients as dogs, cats and horses, so I always delight in being able to communicate with a winged species. I first met Boo a year after his transition, during one of the coolest August months in 17 years. London was cloaked in grey clouds and heavy rain was causing flash floods across many parts of the UK. In his photo, however, Boo was looking very bright. Turquoise is one of my favourite colours and he wore it to great effect. He was pictured in profile from his chest up. He had white feathers on his crown and white plumage defined by black barring, giving the impression of zebra stripes, across the top of his head, down the nape of his neck and at the front by his throat. Mingled in with the stripes were flecks of turquoise and a vivid royal blue cheek patch. His beak was greenish-yellow and the cere, the area above containing the nostrils, was turquoise, indicating this was a cock budgie, not a hen.
Straightaway I felt that Boo was a special soul with a sage side to his character. I felt this wasn’t his first flight – he had reincarnated. Moving on from his wiser nature, I then felt the complete opposite: Boo was quite opinionated, especially about humans! However, I sensed he was very sweet to Roz and liked a lot of physical contact with her. I realized he was her wise teacher.
Further communication revealed that Boo liked to knock a bell, he enjoyed a lot of freedom and there was another bird of similar size to him whose company he didn’t much welcome. He also showed something orange in colour. The relationship between Boo and Roz seemed based on equality, and if Roz called out to him, he would call back.
I ran these first impressions by Roz, who came back with confirmation. The orange thing turned out to be an orange paddle in his bath that he liked to turn to get drops of water to drink. In fact he would only drink this way. But Roz wasn’t surprised he’d mentioned his bell first:
‘He adored his special bell. It was a round “cat” mesh ball with a bell inside and another bell I had attached to the bottom. One day I got home to find him very quiet and sad. Then I noticed his bell lying broken on the floor of his cage. I mended it and hung it up again and he was absolutely ecstatic. He always had to have that bell near him and usually held onto it with one foot when inside his cage.’
Content it was a good connection, Roz and I arranged a phone appointment to go through Boo’s communication.
Her first question was: ‘Are you happy now?’
Boo’s reply was honest and to the point. ‘I would be happier with you. Soul mates. You truly understood me.’
I added, ‘I am feeling Boo could be complex – he didn’t always follow the rules.’
Roz readily agreed and then asked him, ‘How do you feel physically?’
‘Free and light,’ Boo replied, ‘the lightest I have ever felt. It is a joyous feeling.’
I guess it was an odd question, because Boo didn’t have a body now, but it was interesting to hear how a soul feels when existing as pure energy without form.
Roz went very quiet when I read out her next message for Boo: ‘I miss you and I love you.’
‘I know. I feel it. We have a strong bond,’ he replied.
Next came the reason Roz had sought the communication in the first place: ‘I’m sorry I let you down.’
‘Don’t ever think that,’ was Boo’s lightning-fast response. ‘We are in this together. Forever and ever. Pals.’
Roz was quiet. I wondered if she could absorb what Boo was communicating. I continued gently and read her next message: ‘I’m sorry you were in so much pain.’
‘Pain is manageable,’ Boo replied, ‘more manageable than you’ll believe. One day you will understand the strength in being light and free – flying is a blessing in many ways.’
Then Roz asked, ‘Are you still with me?’
‘On and off. Mostly I am busy elsewhere. You know I cannot stay around long. I check on you and feel your heart is sad and lonely.’
‘Will you reincarnate?’ she asked, adding, ‘I know it’s probably futile, but I’m hoping that he might choose to reincarnate and we can be together again.’
‘Not now. I am too happy here. Find yourself a new soul mate on Earth,’ Boo replied, but not in a malicious way.
‘Would you like to see me again? And, if so, how can I find you?’
‘You can reach me in your dreams. This is the best place for now. You still have a lot of living to do. Talk to me in your sleep.’
Animals often tell me it is easier to reach the humans they love in their sleep because they are in an altered state of consciousness that enables the connection. Sometimes the velocity of a guardian’s grief blocks the animal from reaching them. A desperate desire to hear from the animal can also inhibit the connection. So, if you want an animal to reach you, relaxing and letting go of your desperate need can be the most effective way of allowing it to happen.
We had now arrived at Roz’s final question: ‘Is there anything you would like to say to me?’
‘Yes – keep your heart open now. Believe in people’s goodness to attract that to you. Stop sleeping on the wrong side of the bed – move over to the other side. Bring lightness into your being.’
Down the phone line I could hear Roz fighting back the tears, but I was unaware of her physical movements when I described what Boo was picturing to me: ‘He’s showing me that he’s lying on your heart chakra and looking straight into your eyes.’
Roz was stunned and speechless. She didn’t let on until the next day, when she sent an explanation:
‘Moments before you said that Boo was lying on my heart I had put my curled hand there as if I was holding something… it must have been Boo. And there’s another thing: Boo had always slept next to my bed and I had always slept as near as I could to him. Even when he’d gone, I still slept on that side of the bed. I felt “Stop sleeping on the wrong side of the bed – move over to the other side” was his way of telling me it was time to move on.
I had no expectations about the communication; I just knew it was something I had to do. What surprised me was that the information you gave was so personal to Boo that it couldn’t have been about any other bird. You had me fighting back the tears all through.’
By the time Roz received her communication with Boo she’d already introduced a new bird to the family. Ollie was an orange-winged Amazon. Around 13 inches long, he was mainly a green parrot with blue and yellow head feathers and vivid orange flashes in his wings and tail. Roz hadn’t purposefully gone looking for another bird, but a set of circumstances had led to Ollie flying straight into her life.
Roz had read about his plight on a parrot forum. The woman who’d rescued him was trying to rehome him because ‘he wasn’t coming on as she expected’, but nobody was interested.
‘I thought if people knew what was wrong with him he’d have more of a chance of finding a new home, so I offered to pay for him to see an avian vet. Then, since I’d paid, it was assumed that I was interested in him. I was, but I thought it would be too much work. Still, something else kept saying, “You’ll always regret it if you don’t – it’s time to stop playing safe!”’
Ollie was a bigger bird than Roz was used to and he wasn’t tame. He’d been badly neglected and by the time he was rescued, he was very ill. An endoscopy revealed he had Aspergillosis, a fungal disease that affects the respiratory system. Due to his sunflower-seed diet, he was badly vitamin A deficient, and due to neglect he also had a weakened immune system. These factors led to him suffering from inflamed mucus membranes. His nares were also swollen and blocked, his eyes were covered in bubbles of mucus, he had difficulty breathing, his claws were terribly overgrown and one had grown full circle and was digging back into his foot. He obviously needed some care and attention. And Boo knew that Roz had needs too. In a second communication he informed her, ‘I gave Ollie to you. You need something wild in your life.’
Sometimes animals are sent to us, sometimes they choose to be with us to help us heal or grow and sometimes they know we need them just as much as they need us. As Roz commented:
‘It does feel that Ollie belongs to us. Boo always had a great sense of humour. I am always aware that he described me as a bird in a cage and he wants me to be freer. It is hard to do physically, as I hate leaving Kobe and Ollie for longer than I have to, but mentally I believe I am becoming freer.
Each of the three birds has contributed to where I am right now. My world has expanded enormously… Boo got me living again, Kobe started me researching and learning about parrot diet and behaviour (because he was always so naughty), and Ollie furthered my behavioural knowledge and now I am researching and practising treating his illness holistically.
On this journey of learning with the birds I have met the most incredible people who have been unbelievably generous with their time and knowledge, and the most amazing opportunities have come my way, from writing articles for Parrots magazine to tutoring on the parrot behaviour online courses ‘Living and Learning with Parrots’ and ‘Parrot (Behaviour Analysis Solutions) Mini Lessons’ – both developed and originally taught by Dr Susan Friedman, a psychology professor who pioneered the application of Applied Behaviour Analysis to captive and companion animals.
Boo wants me to believe in people’s goodness to attract that to myself, and now it’s easier to do this because I am surrounded by it daily. I want to say “Thank you, Boo. You will always be in my heart. I love you and I’m sorry.”’
Through hearing from Boo, Roz was able to dissolve her guilt and engage with positive states of being – an excitement for life, a zest for learning and a desire to empower others through her new-found knowledge of parrots. Even when things feel at the lowest point they can change and morph into positivity. Where there is loss, there can be new life; where there is guilt, there can be deeper understanding and love. Forgiveness is one of life’s greatest gifts, especially when we learn to forgive ourselves.
The next chapter is about a Christian guardian who believed in life after death and wanted to make sure her cat, Milka, was OK in the afterlife.