When Two Lives Merge...

In loving memory of my very dear Chester. For the past 18 years, he has filled my home with antics and affection. Always eager to be with me, he'd jump on my arm the minute he saw an opportunity and he'd stay on my shoulder for hours if I let him. He had an uncanny ability to sense when I was down and would huddle close to my neck. We had a very special bond. Chester died in my arms this weekend. I love him and I miss him so much.

Below is a story I had written in 1998 about how Chester came into my life.

Just six months old, his was like the face of a starry eyed child. Innocent, yet devilish, his boyish grin was only a clear mask hiding the mischief that lied within. There he sat, snuggled side-by-side next to his sister more than 100 miles from the only place they had ever known as “home”. Their biological parents were left behind, perhaps never to be seen again.

Dozens of strangers – mammoth Hercules – more than twenty times these young siblings’ size, passed by, sticking out fingers and hands, asking questions. Time and again the little green bird was asked to “step up” onto unfamiliar arms, makeshift perches to him, while being scrutinized like a fine painting in an art gallery.

This was to be the day when Chester would see his sister for the last time, the day when “home” would forever carry different meaning. Yet, as he sat, resting comfortably on one foot, he could only hope his fate would find him in a warm, caring environment. A place where silliness was encouraged and love meant acceptance. A place where he would never need to mature, but remain a perpetual child the rest of his life. And, of course, a place where destroying furniture was only reprimanded with a few harmless words….

The sun had shown especially bright that Sunday morning. Seeming to rush me out of bed like an eager child on his birthday, I suppose in hindsight that the signs were obvious how my life was about to change.

I wasn’t planing on buying another bird. The thought never crossed my mind. My one bedroom apartment was already home to a nanday conure, with a high pitched scream that was about as welcoming a noise as someone scraping his fingernails on a chalk board.

As I prepared to catch up with friends at a local bird show, I just couldn’t ward off that temporary emptiness that follows a wounded heart. Only a few days had passed since a man I cared about had told me he was seeing someone new. There was a void in my life that left me vulnerable, stripped me of my defenses against the iron will of a guileless child. And, it was in that brief moment of weakness that I found pleasure and beauty in the eyes of a gaping six-month-old.

From a distance I could see him. Carefully balanced on one leg, Chester appeared weary from the afternoon’s stress. Yet when I approached something magical happened. His eyes opened wide and his toothpick-sized legs could barely keep up with his heart as he raced to my side. I reached out my arm and he jumped on. I stroked his head and he sat calm, basking in my human touch. And my sadness was suspended in the beauty of unconditional love.

I don’t know what it was that drew him to me that day. I guess it doesn’t really matter. They say animals have an uncanny ability to sense human emotions, and I believe that’s true. I also believe that love is something shared between two souls and that giving also means receiving in matters of the heart. I’m reminded of it every day since Chester came into my life.