Seesaw Days
Sep. 11th, 2007 08:53 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
constanceMiss B update:
Success: I did get in touch with a proper agency. Thank God. It was not the agency I tried for a week to contact, of course, but still.
Failure: In the process, I called at six other numbers given to me by my mother's volunteer friends which were out-of-service or just rang unanswered or were the wrong sort of service, though potentially handy (such as the one that helps subsidize and arrange health care for low-income households). I finally ended up with one that worked through the United Way's recommendations, so
Success: THANK YOU UNITED WAY YOU ARE WORTH THE WEEKLY PAYROLL DEDUCTION.
Failure: When I talked to the agency and gave them Miss B's name, the woman admitted they'd dealt with Miss B before, and that she was highly resistant to outsider interference. She asked if Miss B. trusted me. I said, "not any more, she won't." The woman agreed that this was probably the case, but said they'd get a counselor to the hospital to talk to her. I am hoping that her time in the hospital's been a wake-up-call for her, and that she's a little more receptive this time round. Normally, I am consumed with anxiety when I think people are angry with me or dislike me (which to be perfectly honest is most of the time, with everyone), but I think I can live with her resentment, if it means that someone qualified is making sure she's taken care of.
My mother even suggested kindly blackmail as regards the return of Sweetie to her tender mercy. As in, "I can't in good conscience give her back unless you can provide a healthy home for her, Miss B, though I will keep her for you and you can visit her whenever you like." I'm not sure I'm capable of this sort of heartless badassery, but if it's in me at all, it's in me to protect mistreated pets, so. I'm going to take a deep breath and try.
Sweetie update:
Success: She adores the fruit, and likes to take it in her claws and nibble from it, which is fascinating to watch. Cantaloupe seems to be the favorite so far. Though really, I've only tried apple, pear, and cantaloupe, so possibly I need a wider test base.
Failure: Vegetables. No squash, no lettuce. "What is this you're feeding me?" she seems to say when I hand over a strip of foulest crookneck. "It's not food at all, is it?" Which, funnily, is Leory's exact reaction.
Success: She lets me touch her! :O I can stroke her head or back lightly with a fingertip, and she leans into it. When she's had enough, she nips me lightly and steps away, and it's all working out pretty well.
Failure: OMG shower from spray bottle. Honestly, you'd have thought I was torturing her, the way she screamed and fluttered around the cage. I decided to quit before I gave her a heart attack, but I think I'll try again every day or two in hopes that she'll get used to it and maybe even come to enjoy it. (I also intend to do this with the veggies. Today's offering: a thawed black-eyed pea or two. Hey, I'll even tell her the story of the black-eyed pea. It's how my brother and I learned to love them, after all.)
Success: I did get in touch with a proper agency. Thank God. It was not the agency I tried for a week to contact, of course, but still.
Failure: In the process, I called at six other numbers given to me by my mother's volunteer friends which were out-of-service or just rang unanswered or were the wrong sort of service, though potentially handy (such as the one that helps subsidize and arrange health care for low-income households). I finally ended up with one that worked through the United Way's recommendations, so
Success: THANK YOU UNITED WAY YOU ARE WORTH THE WEEKLY PAYROLL DEDUCTION.
Failure: When I talked to the agency and gave them Miss B's name, the woman admitted they'd dealt with Miss B before, and that she was highly resistant to outsider interference. She asked if Miss B. trusted me. I said, "not any more, she won't." The woman agreed that this was probably the case, but said they'd get a counselor to the hospital to talk to her. I am hoping that her time in the hospital's been a wake-up-call for her, and that she's a little more receptive this time round. Normally, I am consumed with anxiety when I think people are angry with me or dislike me (which to be perfectly honest is most of the time, with everyone), but I think I can live with her resentment, if it means that someone qualified is making sure she's taken care of.
My mother even suggested kindly blackmail as regards the return of Sweetie to her tender mercy. As in, "I can't in good conscience give her back unless you can provide a healthy home for her, Miss B, though I will keep her for you and you can visit her whenever you like." I'm not sure I'm capable of this sort of heartless badassery, but if it's in me at all, it's in me to protect mistreated pets, so. I'm going to take a deep breath and try.
Sweetie update:
Success: She adores the fruit, and likes to take it in her claws and nibble from it, which is fascinating to watch. Cantaloupe seems to be the favorite so far. Though really, I've only tried apple, pear, and cantaloupe, so possibly I need a wider test base.
Failure: Vegetables. No squash, no lettuce. "What is this you're feeding me?" she seems to say when I hand over a strip of foulest crookneck. "It's not food at all, is it?" Which, funnily, is Leory's exact reaction.
Success: She lets me touch her! :O I can stroke her head or back lightly with a fingertip, and she leans into it. When she's had enough, she nips me lightly and steps away, and it's all working out pretty well.
Failure: OMG shower from spray bottle. Honestly, you'd have thought I was torturing her, the way she screamed and fluttered around the cage. I decided to quit before I gave her a heart attack, but I think I'll try again every day or two in hopes that she'll get used to it and maybe even come to enjoy it. (I also intend to do this with the veggies. Today's offering: a thawed black-eyed pea or two. Hey, I'll even tell her the story of the black-eyed pea. It's how my brother and I learned to love them, after all.)
no subject
Date: 2007-09-11 03:24 pm (UTC)I'v found that some birds who hate the spray bath like it's some form of torture often enjoy inching down your wrist to sort of bathe themselves in a very low trickle from the sink tap. They don't actually stand in the stream, but sort of stick their heads in and throw it over themselves, and then flutter and preen. When/if she gets used to being handled by you, it's worth a try. That said, baths don't seem to be crucial, or else my dad's water-phobic African Grey would have perished decades ago.
The rest of Daddy's advice: those movements she was making WERE from stress, and no, she sounds perfectly healthy and you shouldn't have to take her to the vet. But you probably already figured that out.
"a strip of foulest crookneck" gave me my guffaw for the morning.
I applaud your persistence on Miss B's case, and I'm keeping my fingers crossed for the badassery. I think it's an excellent strategy! And hurray, United Way!
no subject
Date: 2007-09-11 06:13 pm (UTC)Oooh, I like the idea of the trickle. Someone from work who's kept cockatiels in the past said I might also try making an impromptu birdbath in the sink and letting her try splashing around in that. I am really taken with this idea of water-play, so I hope she gets used to me and the idea of getting wet quickly!
I'm glad she was just rocking on account of the stress -- not only because I'm pleased that there's not some weird neurological disorder to worry about, but also because since she's not doing it so much now it (I hope) means that she's a little more comfortable.
Please thank your father for me! And keep some of those thanks for yourself, for being so patient! I have to stay on your good sides, you know, in case I have more questions. :D