My little six year old cockatiel,Ozzie, left me on June 21st. I had left her at the vet to have a feather cyst removed from her wing. The vet called my work not more than two hours later to tell me that Oz had died while recovering from the anesthesia. I was devestated. I left work and brought her home wrapped in a green towel in the middle of her carrier. I sat on the couch crying and stroking the soft feathers on her belly. My Mother held me and cried for me and for Oz. It was my birthday that day too. My mom later went upstairs to tell my father what had happened. She was afraid he would be upset hearing me cry. My dad was dying of cancer and was very ill but when my mom told him about Oz she said two tears squeezed out from his eyes. My dad would pass away two days later. I buried Ozzie later that day in my garden under a pink rose bush where it is nice and shady and where the hummingbirds like to came in the evening. I miss her loud chirp that would tell my parents and my beagle that my car was coming up the street. I miss the way she would bend her head down for a feather rub. I even miss the seeds that would be scattered on the floor. I will always miss my wonderful wizard of Oz and now in my heart that she flew to my father's shoulder when he met her at the Rainbow Bridge.