On Saturday, August 30, 2003, I lost my precious Hawk headed parrot Caesar to the horrendous disease PDD. Caesar came into my life 4 years before that, on August 27, 1999, at a time when I thought I couldn't go on any more, because the month before I had lost my soul mate of 15 years, Bear, a Maltese/Pomeranian, in a terrible drowning accident. I was so distraught over Bear's death and the guilt that I bore, but a friend convinced me to go with her to a bird show about 100 miles from home. This precious little bird "found" me, and I brought him home. He was only 3 months old, and still young enough that I still handfed him. Within a few weeks, he started showing signs of illness and he was diagnosed with this dreaded disease.

Because of his disease, Caesar was kept separate from my other five birds, as it is contagious and they don't know how it is transmitted. He took special care, as he never would eat on his own, so I handfed him baby bird food twice a day for his whole short life. For 4 years I took care of this wonderful baby, constantly battling bacterial infections (this disease suppresses the immune system, so they usually die from the secondary infections), dealing with constant diarrhea and regurgitating, cleaning his cage meticulously every night, watching him like a hawk for any changes.

I had noticed a couple of recent complications that I was concerned about, so I called my Avian vet, and he agreed with me that I needed to bring Caesar in and let him run some blood tests to make sure his organs were working okay, etc., since Caesar had been on Celebrex for a couple of years. On Sat. August 30, 2003, we took him to the vet, who is about 100 miles away. They had him wrapped in the towel, had taken blood, and were doing other routine things like trimming the wings, etc. As we had just driven a good distance, I excused myself to go to the bathroom, and within a couple of minutes, my husband came and got me and said there was an emergency. I ran into the examining room, and the vet had a tube down Caesar's throat. Caesar had quit breathing, and they couldn't revive him. I stood there and watched in shock, not believing what I was seeing. My baby was alive when I went to the bathroom, and now he wasn't. The vet tried everything, but to no avail. I picked my baby up and held him against my chest...I was shaking so bad I thought I was going to faint. I looked at my husband and said "Let's go home." We brought my baby Caesar back and buried him next to the graves of three of our other beloved pets in our yard.

I don't believe it was Caesar's time to go. To watch him play, you would have never known that he was sick. He was the sweetest, gentlest little bird. I can still hear his "Gerber baby" sounds he used to make all the time. I can still see him climbing off his cage and running/hopping over to me to pick him up. I can still see him begging to be let out of the cage or to be fed. Everything I do with my other birds reminds me of him, and I cry every day for him. I ask him to forgive me for not being with him when he crossed over. When I finally got up the nerve to talk to my Avian vet a week later (he had tried to call me several times and I just couldn't talk to anyone), he said he went ahead and ran the blood tests after I left, and all the organs looked okay, but the fecal tests showed he was full of yeast. He said that the tests showed that Caesar's blood proteins and blood pressure were really bad, and evidently the struggling and stress caused his blood pressure to bottom out. My vet said that he would be haunted over this one for a very long time, and that if he could go back in time, he could have maybe prevented it from happening. I don't blame him, even though that might be the easy way out. I could blame myself for taking Caesar that day...if we had just stayed at home, he would still be here today. There have been so many "what ifs".

For four years I was Caesar's caregiver, his protector, his Momma. It is ironic that I lost him when he should have been his safest, in the hands of a very able Avian vet, but I couldn't protect him. Even with all the extra care and work and time that it took to take care of this precious baby, I would gladly do it the rest of my life just to have him back. Even after one and a half years, I still cry almost every day for him. I have actually found two of his feathers just lying in the middle of the floor, so I hope that was his message to me that he is okay.

Now I live with the fear that PDD might rear its ugly head in my household again. Even though I kept Caesar in the house and my other five birds outside, I will always worry that I might have somehow transmitted it indirectly to one or more of them. I can only pray that they find an accurate test AND a cure for this disease soon. All of us, who have lost their babies to PDD, or are still living with it, should make a concentrated effort to educate the rest of those people that keep birds about this disease. Many people that I have met, that have birds, had never even heard of PDD, but they do now.

Even through the grief, I realize how blessed I am for knowing this kind soul for those four years. This little bird taught me so much about life, about living it to the fullest, and he gave such unconditional love that I will cherish forever. About one month later, on Thursday, October 2, we had to make the unbelievably hard and painful decision to put one of my dogs, Gypsy, a 15 year old Yorkie mix, to sleep, and I know that Caesar was there at the Rainbow Bridge to greet her.

Caesar, and Gypsy, and Bear, and all my other babies, are only a breath away! I will see them again!

~ Carlene (Birdmama5)