Death of a Runt: A Self Analysis

I'm typing this shortly after learning that one of our pet birds died. It was barely a year old if even that, but it was the runt of the three that made it pass the stage of bird infancy.

My sister was the one that found him as she was returning her favorite of the three to the cage. Granted she isn't here as long or is exposed to the birds as often as I am, but the death of the littlest one affected her so much in a very short period of time. Initial shock quickly went to a state of dispare that resulted in her balling her eyes out as if she had lost a family member. That being said, I can only imagine what she will do when the dog dies. We've had the dog since we moved here, and she's getting up there in age. And technically, she isn't even my dog. But even I know she deserves better than how my sister is taking care of "her puppy."

My parents just accepted it. The little bird had a hard time growing his feathers in. His brothers kept attacking him if he got too close. Then there's the fact that it is getting colder and colder, and us humans seem to forget that there are birds down here that are native to the tropics. A lot of things went wrong, but other than that, my parents are pretty much unaffected by it. That's life, and that's what happens when you have a pet.

Myself? You would think being around the birds as long as I have, I would be affected more than this. Not so. As much as I wanted to separate the runt of the bunch, and as much as I knew that the little guy deserved a better living situation, I couldn't bring myself to care for the small animal. His passing is no different than the two rabbits and countless fish we lost since I was little. All of which I was never responsible for due to one reason or another. I knew my level of responsibility then and I know it now as far as animal care goes. That's why I refuse to have a pet of my own despite how much I like animals.

The death of a pet seems like a rite of passage that I've gone through several times. I should be more affected by this kind of thing, or like my parents, be more accepting but still be sad about a beautiful creature's life being cut short by nature. Especially in this case since we have had the little guy since he was an egg and had to feed him through a syringe! But for some reason, I have not had that surge of emotion that one gets when they see their pet dead after seeing it happy and fine the day before or even the hour before. Hell, I don't even feel like my parents with that sad acceptance.

Now that I think about it, the same thing happened when my grandmother died. I was still very young at the time and probably not even out of second grade. I cried and cried, not because I would never see her again, but because nobody was telling me what was going on. They just said she won't be coming back because she had passed on. I didn't understand what passed on meant until the day care I was shoved into after school took us all to see All Dogs Go To Heaven. They used that term in the script, and it suddenly sunk in what happened. But I don't remember being affected by it. If I was, I probably blocked it out of my mind or was all "Oh... okay, so that's what that meant."

I wonder if I would act the same way if someone I knew and actually cared about died. Would I be so detached from death that I would just blow it off and live life like nothing happen or would I finally mourn for the first time in my life having lost something I loved and know I won't get back ever again?

In retrospect, I've been through this before. Senior year of high school, three students died, two of which I had some kind of association to. One I didn't know very well, the other was generally a bully towards me and would join whatever crowd found my reaction funny and worth goating into a bigger reaction. Both were mourned by the other students that knew them. And all I remember feeling was curiosity as to what it must have felt like to die at a time in your life when you thought you were invincible.

Then again, the death of a pet is one thing. The death of a close friend or family member is another.

Yet both feel the same to me at this point. And both don't affect me as they should.