This isn't so much a story as it is rambling memories. We had our lovebird Oliver (we didn't know he was a she until one day I came home from work and she was sitting on an egg) put down Monday June 20, 2011. She had a tumor on her wing that couldn't be removed. She was my constant companion for 12 years. She was a single bird, so she bonded with me. She loved sitting on my shoulder. It was her favorite place. She also liked to climb in my shirt and then peek out from the collar. She loved tortilla chips, cornbread and pancakes or waffles. She would nibble my ear while sitting on my shoulder. Sometimes, she would get tired of sitting on my shoulder (or maybe I wasn't warm enough)and she would walk (not fly, she thought she was human) to my husband to snuggle and scratch her face on his beard. But, once she was done, she'd bite him on the neck and run back to me. She loved being naughty. Sometimes when she was being too quiet, I'd go to look for her and find her upstairs in my office shredding paper, bills, books or whatever she found interesting enough to take back to her cage. She loved taking baths in her water dish. She would even use our bunny Thumper's sometimes. She also liked to jump on my husband's dinner cup to drink right when he took a big bite of something too hot. She just had the perfect timing. She loved going "up high". One of her nicknames was "up high birdie". Ceiling fans, drapery rods, paintings, anything that got her that "birds eye view". She was also very impatient. If I didn't get her cage open fast enough, she would screech at me and rattle her cage bars with her beak. She would let us know she was ready to get up in the morning by squawking and pushing her metal food dish up and letting it drop noisily back in it's ring. The only thing she loved more than being naughty was sitting on my shoulder. All she ever wanted was to be with us, right in the middle of us (she hated us sitting too close together and would get right in between us and push us apart with her tiny feet). She didn't know she was just a little lovebird. She thought she was just as big as everyone else. She'd even walk instead of flying (even before she could no longer fly). When she could no longer fly, she'd let me know exactly where she wanted to go by staring into the dining room (where her treats were layed out) and squawking. I'd walk her over there, set her down, and give her some treats. As soon as I'd sit down and get covered up, she'd squawk that she was done. I know this is all over the place. She only passed away 2 days ago. I miss her so much it's hard to breath. I think about her, about needing to check on her, and then I remember that she's gone and it just knocks the air out of me. It's an unbearable hurt. An actual physical pain. When she left, she took my heart. We had to put her to sleep on June 20, 2011 at 5:20pm. She had stopped eating and was too weak to do much more than sleep in my hand. The only time she became alert was when she realized she was at the doctor's office. Then she tried like crazy to hide behind my neck. She went so quickly. I didn't know it would be so fast. I'm so lost and lonely without my constant companion...I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do. I'm so very sad.