a very strange weekend.
Our long time lodger and best friend, Cocky, died on Saturday morning. He was 35, or so, years old and he loved me and I loved him. He wasn't my pet, and that seemed to make our friendship even better. He belonged, if a very intelligent cockatoo could be said to be owned by anybody, to Hazels friend Denise. She and her husband live in Malta at present so we happily took on the care of Cocky. He had been with us, on and off, for a couple of years and was 'at home' with us. Anyway, he developed a bad tumour and on Saturday he had had enough.
On Sunday, I was feeling somewhat depressed about this but we had promised to spend most of the day with Lulu and the boys And, after a while, that cheered me up. Bye Cocky.
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