We have a pet parakeet named, Druscilla, or Drew for short. We named her after a character on "Buffy the Vampire Slayer." For any of those that never watched the show, Spike and Druscilla were evil vampire mates. Drew had a mate in our house too named, Spike.
Now before anyone reads the title, my first paragraph, and pronounces me an evil animal hater, I beg you to read on. We have had 4 parakeets over the years; three of which we loved. Druscilla will be the last parakeet we ever claim as a pet. Her evil ways have left a sour taste in my mouth (no, not literally. We stick to turkeys, and chickens, not parakeets. There just isn't enough meat on them to justify all the preparation).
Drew killed Spike. I cannot press charges as I did not witness the murder with my own eyes, but I am sure of it. Spike was a sweet bird. He only sang the most melodic of songs, cuddled in your neck, and perched on your shoulder as you walked around. Drew nagged Spike. She made the most obnoxious sounds at him. Her sounds were not chirps; they were ear-piercing shrieks. Even though I provided two different cups of food and two cups of water in their large cage, Drew demanded to eat out of the one Spike was using. She would peck his head until he moved. The spousal abuse was hideous.
One day, my 6 year old found Spike lifeless at the bottom of the cage. Out of the mouth of babes he pronounced, "Mom, Drew finally killed Spike!"
Ever since, my animosity towards her shrill calls has consumed me. It pains me to feel this way about one of God's creatures, but I sincerely doubt Drew's origins. She is a demon bird...I can sense it.
People say unloved animals do not live long. Why, then, does Drew go on biting us, tormenting us with her screeches, and reminding us of her evil legacy. She has driven me to horrible extremes. I am ashamed to write the lengths I have gone to rid our home of Drew, but for the sake of confession and a cleansing of the soul, I will document them here.
I have tried starving Drew. Of course, I never told the kids. I just conveniently forgot about her.
Drew took to escaping from her cage when she lacked food and water. She thwarts my efforts once a week by bringing attention to her self, flying around the house like a bat. At that point, my "memory" returns, and I refill her water and food.
I offer her to anyone that comes to our door, cage and all.
Every Girl Scout, magazine salesman, UPS driver, neighbor, and family member. Somehow, their intuition for all things diabolic demolishes my effort.
Once, I put her outside! In our backyard, yelling, "Goodbye, Drew!" I left her there.
After checking through the blinds every five minutes, I realized I had been defeated again. Zombie went outside and picked her up after 20 minutes of "fresh air." She remained in the same place the whole time.
Drew has outlasted the other three birds we loved in the past. Why, Drew? Why? Just die already.