Max was 16 years old when he died of old age, (meaning many different ailments due to his age,) but to me, 16 still seemed young, as I was only 17 when he left us. I grew up with him, and his gentle nature and bright intelligence intrugued me as I grew. He was always there, for as long as I can remember... and suddenly, my whole world changed that evening. His familiar, happy greeting, gone, his warm presence on my shoulder, lost. Max is the only death that I have genuinely wept for, and he shall never be forgotten. My only hope is that with what I learned from Max, I can give my love to another cockatiel, soon, and give it the best care, so that we might make it further than 16 years. I will always love you, Max. 1983-1999