Snowy

A Story by hullab

A tale of shared redemption

"Keep it simple" is what's best described as a step to the steps and I always try to bear this slogan in mind when writing. This is a true story about a budgerigar and a turn of events that would lead to a magically interwoven tale of shared redemption. I'm sure many of us have been there, when the children's requests for a pet reaches an endless harping crescendo and for Yvonne and I a budgie seemed the most manageable, decision made, the local pet shop provided our little bundle of feathers.

I had no idea when the box was opened that this little white budgie weighing no more than a few grams would play such a pivotal role in my recovery. I don't know if I had always believed that God works through people but I would have laughed out loud if you'd suggested his power extended to the birds. We all crowded round with excitement as we transferred Snowy from the small cardboard box to his newly acquired cage in the corner of the living room, choosing his name was easy, he was brilliant white.

I knew that budgies could whistle and that some were known for mimicry so within the first few weeks I set about trying to teach him, I'm no Whistling Jack Smith but I went at it with enthusiasm, just the usual,

" ssweeeet ssweeeel"

" ssweeeel ssweeeet"

and it seemed in no time at all he was firing it right back at me, Wow! I was smitten. Over the next few months, he was really finding his voice " peek a boo, I see you" and " who's a pretty boy then" but before I could enlarge upon our repertoire disaster struck. We had taken to allow Snowy a free fly zone between living room and kitchen which he seemed to enjoy and we were generally always careful about open doors but as luck would have it one fateful Monday morning as the girls were leaving for school Snowy took a wrong turn and found himself outdoors. Up up and away he flew!

Returning from work that evening to this news was devastating, I was distraught, you can imagine! What? Why? Who? But it didn't really matter, apportioning blame wouldn't help, I was gutted. After trawling the streets, a bit, whistling like a demented loon, I gave up, the girls innocent suggestion about " just get a new one" fell on deaf ears, I was inconsolable. That evening I was sharing at a meeting in Cambuslang on the fourth step and I have a vivid memory of petitioning those present to some amusement I might add to say a prayer for wee Snowy's safe return.

Over the next few days the rain was teeming doon, with accompanying thunder and lightning displays fueled by blustery September winds. We did however place some lost pet posters with contact numbers in local shops, more in hope than expectation. I gave in to the girls and we found ourselves, midweek, bringing home Snowy's replacement from a pet shop in Linlithgow, an identical bird in appearance only. He spent the next few days nedding around, crashing into plants, escaping through the seed holder and generally being an all-round rabble rouser and this only added to how much I missed the noble one.

I answered the phone Saturday morning and my heart sang, some kind person had found Snowy the previous day on a bridge miles away, they had handed the budgie into a local veterinary practice who as luck? would have it their main vet was a bird expert. Snowy was in a bad way exhausted, dehydrated and close to death. The vet didn't hold out much hope but miraculously after a glucose squirt and a days bed rest we were reunited, my joy new no bounds!

" Hallelujah, I've been saved, it's a new day"

Was the first new saying I taught him, my football team is the famous Glasgow Celtic so I wasn't to upset that for about six months until his next molt he was green and white as a result of the wee souls five day woodland ordeal. Snowy lived for a further five years and as my wee football buddy we enjoyed many a game together, he would sit on my shoulder and chatter

" CELTIC, CELTIC"

" For it's a grand old team to play for"

" Larson, goaaaal"

" Larson, goaaaal, Naw he's away noo"

# " Wee Snow, Wee Snow"

" A wee cup o coffee"

" Time to fly, Time to fly"

I don't know if there's a lesson to be learned from every story but for me one of the more memorable moments in this tale was one day I was half way down the stairs and I was stopped dead in my tracks as Snowy called out " Halleluiah, I've been saved, it's a new day" I was by now aware of how Snowy could cut into my self absorbed musings in a way that only a perfectly mimicked truth can, amplified and targeted with the precision achieved only through the hearing of one's own voice. In that moment and with great clarity I recognized that Snowy still and could only ever repeat anything I had taught him to say with the same gusto and enthusiasm that I had conveyed in those early repetition days, why then, did Snowy now sound so much happier than I felt?

Perhaps I had let life, again, flay some of the Lustre from my gratitude? Ok the bird had a simpler life, drink water, eat seed, savage the odd cuttlefish and fly around the house, although the latter as you know, not without its perils. So in his own simple way Snowy had highlighted a need for me to be more vigilant and protective with the quality of my recovery, to maintain and nurture that which brought me joy, to catch myself to realign my thoughts and actions with where I thought my higher power wanted me to be.

Aye, he was a braw wee bird, he left us with many happy memories, one of Yvonne's favorites was the time we were celebrating something at the kitchen table and Snowy flew in low and blew out the candle.

So, it might have been the power of prayer that saved wee Snow and I do feel there was Devine intervention in my own salvation but whatever I believe to be my truth one things certain mention Snowy in our house and we all light up.