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Description
This is a true story.

I hugged my Squeak and loved on him when I got home from my Friday ablutions. I loved him. He loved me.

Squeak was your average cockatiel bought from Petland. In a few more months, I would have had him for a year. He was such a sweetheart that loved getting his snuggles. I loved snuggling him. I named him Squeak for obvious reasons. He constantly gave the cutest sounding squeaks.
He was only a bird, yes. But I loved him so much.. More than a human should or probably could towards a pet. To me, he was no pet but rather the man I loved.

It was only eight p.m. But man was I tired. My Friday ablutions tend to do that. I decided to go to bed early. I, of course, take Squeak with me as I always did and had for nearly since the first day I got him. He was even more snugly when it was pitch black.
I pretty much had him trained to stay only on the pillow at night, because of the danger of.. You know.  And I also always slept on my back so I wouldn't ever accidently lay on him.
I remember the last moments before falling blissfully asleep. Snuggling with him.

I woke at one am for some reason to find that I was laying on my stomach. Which was, at the time, unusual. I felt a lump underneath me. "Oh Squeak, I'm laying on you!" I said, giggling and jumping off of him, on all fours over him.  I had kinda previously done that before and he always emerged just fine. Perhaps cranky, but always fine.. And full of energy.
He was only a juvenile.
I groped around for a second to find him. When I felt feathers, I felt a brief moment of joy.. But then I noticed there was something different. He felt stiff. I scooped him up and realized he wasn't moving. At all. He laid still in my hands. "Oh my god, no.." I whispered quietly.  I knew what had happened. "No.." I couldn't believe it. The bird that was my joy, my salvation, my love..He couldn't be.. right..?
I held his unnaturally still body in my hands as I ran to the light, which was across the room.
Knowing that something that important to you is dead is one thing. Actually seeing it.. Now that is another story..
I flicked the light on and stared down at the body in my hands. He was laying almost on his side, one wing stretched out, beak gaping open, eyes staring listlessly out.  He was dead. Tears fell instantly. I can't recall a time I cried so hard.
I ran to mothers room, throwing the door open, crying out desperately out to her.
She looked at me as I cried hard. I repeated over and over that Squeak was dead. She asked me "Are you sure..?" she thought he may have simply be unconscious.
I instinctively knew the difference between sleeping and stunned or knocked out.

That was the most difficult nights rest I ever had in my life. In order to sleep, I had to force myself to stop crying.. I don't know how I did it, but in about ten minutes, I was unconscious. Perhaps my brain was simply too overloaded and shut down.

When I woke, I immediately started crying again. It was about eleven in the morning, almost afternoon. Memories from the night before haunted me.
I located where we had placed Squeaks body and held him close. It was time to bury him. I soaked his feathers with tears.

I went outside with my mother, who was holding the shovel. I picked out the spot for him and she started digging. I held Squeak to me, crying endlessly. I couldn't let him go..

Once the hole was deep enough, she told me to put him inside. I snuggled him for the last time and kissed him.. Over and over. I couldn't let go of him.
My mother almost had to take him from me because I wouldn't let him go.
It took me a good ten minutes.. Before I slowly, shakily, set him in the hole. I grabbed a small handful of dirt and set it on him so slowly.. It was so wrong to put dirt on him.. He was supposed to be living, full of energy,  and making those squeaks that melted my heart...
Putting dirt on his beautiful face, over the open eyes that stared lifelessly at me, was the hardest thing I've ever done in my life...

I stared at the small mound of dirt, crying and crying.. Even though its about a half a year later, it still hurts me like a fresh wound.

Squeak died sometime between the fourteenth and fifteenth of September, 2007.

Description
This is a true story.

I hugged my Squeak and loved on him when I got home from my Friday ablutions. I loved him. He loved me.

Squeak was your average cockatiel bought from Petland. In a few more months, I would have had him for a year. He was such a sweetheart that loved getting his snuggles. I loved snuggling him. I named him Squeak for obvious reasons. He constantly gave the cutest sounding squeaks.
He was only a bird, yes. But I loved him so much.. More than a human should or probably could towards a pet. To me, he was no pet but rather the man I loved.

It was only eight p.m. But man was I tired. My Friday ablutions tend to do that. I decided to go to bed early. I, of course, take Squeak with me as I always did and had for nearly since the first day I got him. He was even more snugly when it was pitch black.
I pretty much had him trained to stay only on the pillow at night, because of the danger of.. You know.  And I also always slept on my back so I wouldn't ever accidently lay on him.
I remember the last moments before falling blissfully asleep. Snuggling with him.

I woke at one am for some reason to find that I was laying on my stomach. Which was, at the time, unusual. I felt a lump underneath me. "Oh Squeak, I'm laying on you!" I said, giggling and jumping off of him, on all fours over him.  I had kinda previously done that before and he always emerged just fine. Perhaps cranky, but always fine.. And full of energy.
He was only a juvenile.
I groped around for a second to find him. When I felt feathers, I felt a brief moment of joy.. But then I noticed there was something different. He felt stiff. I scooped him up and realized he wasn't moving. At all. He laid still in my hands. "Oh my god, no.." I whispered quietly.  I knew what had happened. "No.." I couldn't believe it. The bird that was my joy, my salvation, my love..He couldn't be.. right..?
I held his unnaturally still body in my hands as I ran to the light, which was across the room.
Knowing that something that important to you is dead is one thing. Actually seeing it.. Now that is another story..
I flicked the light on and stared down at the body in my hands. He was laying almost on his side, one wing stretched out, beak gaping open, eyes staring listlessly out.  He was dead. Tears fell instantly. I can't recall a time I cried so hard.
I ran to mothers room, throwing the door open, crying out desperately out to her.
She looked at me as I cried hard. I repeated over and over that Squeak was dead. She asked me "Are you sure..?" she thought he may have simply be unconscious.
I instinctively knew the difference between sleeping and stunned or knocked out.

That was the most difficult nights rest I ever had in my life. In order to sleep, I had to force myself to stop crying.. I don't know how I did it, but in about ten minutes, I was unconscious. Perhaps my brain was simply too overloaded and shut down.

When I woke, I immediately started crying again. It was about eleven in the morning, almost afternoon. Memories from the night before haunted me.
I located where we had placed Squeaks body and held him close. It was time to bury him. I soaked his feathers with tears.

I went outside with my mother, who was holding the shovel. I picked out the spot for him and she started digging. I held Squeak to me, crying endlessly. I couldn't let him go..

Once the hole was deep enough, she told me to put him inside. I snuggled him for the last time and kissed him.. Over and over. I couldn't let go of him.
My mother almost had to take him from me because I wouldn't let him go.
It took me a good ten minutes.. Before I slowly, shakily, set him in the hole. I grabbed a small handful of dirt and set it on him so slowly.. It was so wrong to put dirt on him.. He was supposed to be living, full of energy,  and making those squeaks that melted my heart...
Putting dirt on his beautiful face, over the open eyes that stared lifelessly at me, was the hardest thing I've ever done in my life...

I stared at the small mound of dirt, crying and crying.. Even though its about a half a year later, it still hurts me like a fresh wound.

Squeak died sometime between the fourteenth and fifteenth of September, 2007.