Walk through the door this evening, arms loaded up with things I have bought home from work that need doing tonight, eldest son comes downstairs, peers into the dining hall and says
"He is still breathing"
then walks away.
"Who is?" I inquire thinking son has bought home another waif and stray from school who is probably dying in my dining room and should I be panicking?
"Barney" he says
"What?"
"Barney is at the bottom of the cage" he says and walks off.
So dumping my gear, issuing orders to him to make me a cup of tea (which I am still waiting for) I walk over to the cage to see feathers everywhere, a canary (Barney) laying on the floor looking like he is having a fit, when I notice that one of his feet seems to be caught by his beak. So I reach in, take him out of the cage, remove foot that seems to have been caught in the feathers, clean off the blood by the beak and cut his claws which have grown considerably in a very short time since they were last cut.
"Don't you are killing him" shouts eldest son "Dad said to leave him"
"I couldn't leave him in that state his foot was caught" shouts I at him, "Gawd only knows how long he has been like that"
Once his claws were clipped, and he was cleaned up I noticed that his heartbeat was slowing.
"s***" says I, "Get your father on that phone now!"
"He's dying?"
"Yes" though by this time he had gone.
Cue youngest child who has a major crying fit over a bird he barely looked at. Eldest child helps me to wrap him up in preparation for burying him where our old dog lies in the garden, which hubby will do when he gets home from work.
"What do you think it was?" asks eldest.
"Shock probably, he never did like having his claws cut, he always acted as though he was having an epileptic fit when you did them, think this was the one thing that killed him in the end" says I.
So our canary is no more. We have had him for 16 years. Hubby bought him for me, for my birthday, 16 years ago. To this day I have no idea why he thought I would want a canary, I had a dog and a baby to look after and I am not fond of caged birds, neither do I like birds flying round me. Lovely in the garden not at home.
The finches are very quiet, huddled together in the corner of the cage, heads bowed as though they are paying their respects.
I will miss him in a way. He always used to sit looking through the bars of the cage when I was on the computer, singing away to the music that came from the computer speakers. I will miss him taking a bath and showering me with water.
But I will make hubby promise not to replace him, can't have that now can we 
