Be Well and Happy, Dear Little Peter

I have scrounged up a couple of names for physiotherapists and written them to see if I can get in for an evaluation. One seems to restrict patients to an immediate area, but the other one might be available. It’s obvious my family doctor is not going to help me. She can monitor my blood and such but with the physical pain she has been no help, nor will she ever be helpful.

In Limbo again, waiting, waiting, getting anxious about seeing yet another specialist, I pull a card to see what’s going on today:

VI OF BIRDS (6 of Cups)


The Grey Parrot looks askance saying “Not another bloody specialist and let-down?” Oh come on, let’s have some hope.

I once saw a Grey Parrot in a pet shop named Peter. Peter cost about $350, which was and always will be above my means. I am glad because I no longer believe in breeding or capturing exotic birds for sale. They lead terrible lives with most humans. I no longer believe in breeding dogs and cats either; we cause animals too much pain and suffering. (There are plenty of dogs, cats, and birds in shelters and sanctuaries and birds live a long, long time, there are many out there already needing homes and responsible owners.)

Peter is probably still alive 15 years later, suffering terribly in a cage with people who can’t stand the sound of him.

“Memories and nostalgia, thoughtfulness. Feelings of regret or thoughts of the might have been.”

Oh yes, I have feelings of regret, about my health, about not being able to move, about being in pain, about having to put my trust in yet another round of evaluations, tests, talking, talking endlessly about pain and injury and not getting anywhere. I have regrets about old pets and their lives and deaths, I regret….

But not too often, hopefully.




2 thoughts on “Be Well and Happy, Dear Little Peter

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