On Art, Fences, & Death - An Interlude

Caution: Anthropomorphism and cuteness ahead, followed by angst. Read at own risk.

As a few of you may know, the irreplaceable and infinitely adorable Ixie has recently been having some serious health issues, and passed away this week. This personable creature that many have gotten to know and fall in love with had more character than the space she occupied would seem to suggest. (Really, she was just so damn cute, what can I say?!) She's been with me for some of the most meaningful years of my life, and it will be strange not to have her around any longer.

i can haz bathtub? no? i uze drinking bowl! look at mah mowhawk!

Ixie, short for Ixiona, adapted from Ixion, father of the Centaur race in Greek mythology, was a two-and-a-half-year-old budgerigar. When she reached reproductive maturity, she became pretty much a curious, clever, and overly affectionate egg-laying machine. If she was a chicken, we would have been happy to have breakfast every day, but her eggs were rather on the small side.

the hell is this?! *kick* ...ya! football!

A frisky budgie is adorable to witness. Because she was very tame, she craved human companionship, begged for kisses, and wanted to spend all day on your shoulder. But her egg laying started becoming abnormally frequent and I worried for her health. She continued to lay eggs, until it eventually became problematic. She had her first abdominal peritonitis in January of this year, and, following treatment with antibiotics, it seemed to have been resolved. However, this summer, her belly started to bulge again, indicating a more serious problem of egg retention. After countless vet visits, some X-rays showing multiple eggs in her abdomen, more medication, hormone treatment...it just kept growing.

For the past couple of months, we were just faced with difficult decisions. Surgery? Euthanasia? Long-term treatment? The veterinarians (who knew her all too well by then) never explicitly told us what to do either way, probably at least in part for liability reasons, and so the decisions have always rested upon us. Only during the last visit was euthanasia strongly encouraged; the size of her abdomen was beyond any case they've seen before and the chances of the eggs being reabsorbed eventually by the body (as sometimes happens) were rather, well...stupid...for her state.

During this whole ordeal, Ixie had kept most of her vivaciousness and personality, but in the past few days even her enthusiasm was decreasing, which is a sign for most small prey animals that it's probably too late. We put in a homemade nest box for her, but the chances of her eliminating the eggs were very slim. At least she was able to use the box as a hideout for her final days, and have some of the comfort of being at home with familiar sounds and voices.

***

This episode has definitely had me reflecting on a lot of things. The moral, emotional, and financial value of pet ownership, the extent of responsibility, humans' tendency to be allergic to suffering, how to deal with a guilty conscience, experiences of all sorts that I miss or crave and that I can't have (especially the ones that I will never have again)...

The hardest part was being on the fence; not knowing what decisions to take, not knowing how things would turn out. I felt, even though I knew we had done our best for the little chick, that I couldn't choose euthanasia. I don't like seeing suffering, but that is something I feel, and I didn't think it was reasonable to take a decision about a life based on my aversion to suffering. I don't know what Ixie would have wanted (or even if she had any awareness of life and death at all, as a topic for a drawn out philosophical discussion that I hope to avoid here), or what "suffering" pets in general may "want", but I feel that we often think for them in terms of human thoughts, needs, and emotions.

So we chose the path of prolonging our stress, and living in that uncertain middle ground, on the fence, where things can go either way from one day to the next. Not only did her state change constantly, but how we felt changed just as often, and our decision compass was also wildly oscillating. Lots of questions, lots of uncertainty. Maybe I have been thinking too deeply about a little parakeet? But she was incredibly dear to me, and I wanted to feel later that I've made the best decisions, ie. the decisions I would be least likely to regret.

I really dislike these sort of "on the fence" situations. In the past, I haven't been able to stay on the fence for very long before jumping off on one side. The instability of being up there ends up swallowing most of my mental energy and makes me incredibly uneasy. I find that a lot of people have trouble with these situations; the uncertainty of a situation can be far worse than its resolution. Sometimes, even having a bad outcome can at least provide closure and allow one to move on. Hence, one might often arbitrarily choose a direction, just to be done with it, just because the uncertainty of straddling the fence can become too unbearable.

Having quite a few fences to dance on in my life currently, I'm trying to improve my balancing act. I think it is best, in the long-run, to try to find calm even when on the fence, rather than force an outcome. There will always be fence situations; things rarely get resolved from one day to the next. Maybe I can make myself cozy while I'm up there, enjoy the breeze and the view, and forget, for a while, that the stable grounds are actually far below.

 ***

There's just something so quaint about it!

It has been a year of cases fitting in the "bad news brings good news brings..." category. But this and other incidents have brought me considerably closer to living the carpe diem motto, not just as a smart-sounding, stereotyped pat on the shoulder that people throw around, but truly trying to throw myself in it every chance I get. I've been more motivated than I ever have to actually overcome fears, reach for what I want, and stop putting it off (like the hitchhiking trip!). And for this I am thankful.

Although, at the same time, that's all nice and everything, but I'm still feeling like shit right now... As stoic as I may try to be, I do enjoy the occasional stroll through Kübler-Ross, in reverse; after understanding and acceptance, I deal with anger.

Adaptability: Full-time Job

Over the next couple of days, our luck always seemed to get us out of the frying pan and...the eagles are coming? OK. I lack mastery of metaphors and geeky jokes. Anyways. The point is...uncannily good luck.

After leaving Amsterdam via the conveniently located but not very useful Liftplaats, we had a few good rides towards Germany (during one, I accidentally stole a wicked awesome pillow that got caught in my bags - yes, this is relevant!). But nobody seemed to want to take us across the border (go figure, it's not like we were hitchhikers from Amsterdam wanting to enter Germany or anything). Eventually it got dark, rainy, and gas stations closed and kicked us out. Bummer. No tent, no sleeping bag, no food, no warmth.

Enter Mareike, yet another Deus Ex Machina with impeccable timing. The previous summer, we hung out several times across Canada, and I was excited to be on my way to visit her in her hometown. When we ended up stuck on the road, she drove a considerable distance to pick us up from where we were and drive us back to her place. Simply, stunningly kind.

The following day, to avoid another "Amsterdam effect", we decided to leave early, attempt hitchhiking, and if no luck by a reasonable time, we would take the train to our next destination: Hamburg. After about 20 minutes, a couple of hippie-looking hitchhikers also heading to Hamburg join us and settle a bit further (popular spot thanks to hitchwiki, I suppose). Not 15 minutes later, they hop in a car and wave to us! What?! How...What...Why...?!?! Not only is that not cool hitchhiker etiquette, I just wouldn't believe they would inspire more confidence than we did.

That gave me energy to really apply myself, and it occurred to me that hitchhiking success correlates considerably with the amount of energy you put in. That might seem like an obvious statement, but previously I had been doing what I had seen most other hitchhikers do: wait passively with a sign, half zoned out, or having a conversation. So I approached it more actively, made as much eye contact as I could, smiled, moved around instead of remaining statue-like, wore a different shirt colour, etc. Imagination is your friend. At least people certainly noticed us more, but still no takers. One driver offered to take us only if we would share part of the gas expenses, and normally I might have accepted, but I was still pissed from the hippie couple incident who likely got a free ride, so we refused. Maybe we should have taken it. After almost two hours, we were just about ready to give up. To pass the time, François comments on the cobra pillow, that he now dubs le coussin maléfique (the cursed pillow). Apparently, ever since that pillow decided to tag along, we have had a great deal of trouble getting rides. I start to believe him, so, after pontificating on the pillow's fate, we decide to leave it there.

Some minutes after we disown the evil pillow, a car honks for us! The driver says he can definitely take us all the way to Hamburg, so we stuff our bags in and go go go! Goodbye coussin maléfique. The driver's name is Christian. He is a navy officer from Germany but working in...yeah, damn straight...Norway! He learns of our travel plans and tells us that he's actually leaving Hamburg in two days and crossing Denmark to take the ferry to Kristiansand, then driving to Stavanger, where he works. Says we're welcome to go with him for any part of the way. OH MY WHAT LUCK! I've come to describe this kind of situation as "bad news brings good news brings..."

I didn't even notice the distance to Hamburg because most of the ride was spent discussing Norway at considerable length. This marked the first personal account I had about what Norway is like as a country. With every anecdote, with every tidbit, my eyes lit up. So I took his words seriously, and they guided a lot of the trip decisions as well. Christian says: bring a fishing rod, because there's fish everywhere; just stick your rod out and the fish will come like magnets, it's insane. My little naive and idealistic mind is already dreaming of feeding myself with fish in the wilderness! And camping, and bathing and washing clothes in the rivers! Who needs money? 

Another important piece of information he shared was how expensive everything is, particularly alcohol, and how much Norwegians love their alcohol. One anecdote that persisted in my mind was how he once exchanged a bottle of cheap German Schnapps for a giant-ass salmon from a fisherman! Now my brain is purring! We need to get alcohol to bribe people and feed ourselves this way.

And last but not least: in Norway, never underestimate the distances. (But what the hey, I live in the second largest country in the world, so I should be used to vast distances...right?)

So upon our arrival in Hamburg, we exchange phone numbers and, instead of enjoying the city (not entirely true), I spend the next two days running around looking for all the important supplies I can still buy cheaply. It's panic time! Need a tent, and food. Lots of food. No way I will be going broke buying food in Norway. Fast forward to the night before our departure. Supplies? Check; tent, sleeping bag, camping stove & gas, lots of nonperishable food, and, last but not least, three bottles of cheap German beer. Not for personal consumption, but to exchange for salmon, naturally. As we make the final preparations for our early wake up the following day, we get a call from Christian. Bad news. He found out on very short notice that he has to take another officer along, and so he can't take us anymore...

Although it would have been awesome to go with Christian, I did not feel very discouraged by this change of plans, for some reason. And, because of this news, we got offered two giant Turkish pizzas on our ride out of Hamburg the following day, got to see more of Denmark and Sweden, met more interesting people, hitchhiked my first ferry at Puttgarden, and got to see my good friend Sacha in Copenhagen. So, something about bad news brings good news brings...