Simon the bird is no longer with me. On Friday I decided that I really didn’t want & couldn’t handle another pet and that keeping the bird for a week or more (and inevitably falling in love with it) until the owner appeared would simply end in tears. As it turned out, handing the bird over to the avian vet on Friday afternoon also ended in tears, but those were mostly a result of the relentless insistence of the entire animal clinic that, in fact, I could keep the bird. You know, if I had a heart beating in my body or any sort of thought for small adorable animals or could function as anything other than a cold evil robot.

So I was feeling pretty sad about the birdie — who was determined to be a female and only about 1 year old — and the whole situation and then E found the owner! Long story short, Lemon got to go home to her owner and her brother Lime this morning and everyone is very relieved, me included.

This was also an opportunity to re-solidify my personal stance that even though I love working with animals and living with animals and helping animals, I don’t think I could ever foster or rescue them, as I think I have unhealthy levels of empathy for them. It isn’t that I would want to keep them all, it’s more that I imagine how scared they are and how confused they are and how they don’t understand what is happening to them and then I get all worked up about making things as okay as possible for the animal. I consider myself to be a pretty realistic and practical person, but this is the area where I kinda lose my footing. I mean, I get all upset about inanimate objects’ feelings, for pete’s sake. And don’t get me started on the emotional journey that is Weeding a Section of the Library Collection. I really need to figure out a way to get ruthless about that one, or else my collections are going to be all medical handbooks from the 1950’s and history books that end right before the Vietnam War.