Tribute to Bo

The Pet Store's Back Room
By Peggy Hentz
December 25, 2005

Was it fate meant to be or merely by chance
When the back room door opened she caught just a glance?
The pink and white feathers gave her the clue
The pet store back room hid a Moluccan Cockatoo.

All manners aside, she pushed herself in
To meet the dear parrot held captive therein.
The back room was cluttered, gloomy and dark.
The eyes of its prisoner held not a spark.

The bird sat in silence and didn’t look well.
The cage bottom filled with feces and shells.
She gently reached in. Not a bite or a lurch.
A drop of thick puss fell from its chest to its perch.

She slowly reached toward him so as not to fright.
His reaction was hopeful. His eyes filled with light.
Someone had loved him, for kindness he’s known
That he must have remembered from a long time ago.

Weak with his illness and lacking good care,
She vowed in her heart to free him from there.
Holding back tears and hiding her rage
She promised him soon, he’d be gone from this cage.

She asked of his story and questioned his plight.
She was told, “He is taken, and the bird is alright.”

They didn’t seem worried, nor recognized
That without intervention this poor bird would die.
She offered to take the bird to her vet.
Her offer refused, she left with regret.

Nothing else did she think of. She reached out on-line
To distant friends who loved birds and valued their lives.
All manner of rescue, some legal, some not,
Were explored ’til they fashioned a daring rescue plot.

To the counter they walked, lost poster in hand,
Strangers just looking for their lost feathered friend.
With a tale that tricked these jailers of doom,
He was freed from his languish in the pet store’s back room.

To the vet he was whisked, wasting no time.
Examined and tested, the bird was not fine.
That he needed attention was no longer in doubt.
He had mites. He had lice. Parasites inside and out.

A wound at his breastbone that festered and bled
Would require massive surgery which might leave him dead.
Denying no service and no money spared
He’d get what he needed ’til he was repaired.

Home she did take him to build up his strength
To endure the long rehab he’d need at great length.
He talked up a streak, even told her his name,
But to protect his identity I think I’ll refrain.

She intended to foster and give him a start
But this gentle old soul pulled the strings of her heart.
A hint of his past was revealing in his crying,
Repeating the phrase, “Mommy is dieing.”
Could it be someone loved him and left him alone
Because he outlived his first happy home?

To the meds and the caring he responded so fast
You’d never know by his actions of his sad recent past.
He’d dance and he’d play, with the heart of a ‘too.
The surgery, extensive, he quickly pulled through.

Everything that he needed she made sure he’d get.
His angel of mercy was quickly in debt.
As he healed and he mended, his fame quickly spread
To bird loving people on the World Wide Web.
They gathered together, as bird people do,
Sent donations, held raffles, to help pay what was due.

Though bandaged and collared, he did more than survive.
Prayers from all over the world helped him to thrive.
His future looked bright and pain he’d no longer know.
Then test results returned with an unfair, dire blow.
This bird that was thought not needing a vet
Was diagnosed with bone cancer, the worst cancer yet.

With a future uncertain and a prognoses grim
His friends have all vowed not to give in.
His medical expenses all would be met.
Anything needed this cockatoo would get.
For all of his future, one thing is sure:
Abuse and neglect he will no longer endure.

To the reader: please know though the names are withheld
Every word here is true of the story I tell.
Now I will leave you with this single thought:
Look carefully upon that parrot you bought.
Did you know they can live more than a decade or two?
Close to a century some parrots do.

What’s going to happen to your feathered friend
If your life should come to an untimely end?
Have you made arraignments through money and wills
Guaranteeing your pet doesn’t fall on these ills?
Or are you leaving their future to chance?
For they might not be saved by an angel’s quick glance.
You may be providing an ultimate doom
of suffering and dieing in a pet store’s back room.