Parrot, The

The parrot

When dad came home with the parrot we thought he had definitely lost
it. I mean?
He used to buy all sorts of things without consulting mum, which was
always cause for mayor arguments. But a parrot!

We hadn't ever had a pet. And a parrot just didn't seem like the most
conventional first pet at all.

As soon as he opened the door, with that big, noisy coloured thing
between his arms, mum just went furious at him. She didn't even give
him enough time to invent a good lie. She gave them the speech of the
century and run to mumble to herself in the kitchen.

My parent's hadn't been blessed with a daughter, though they had tried
hard. Probably that had something to do with the parrot's arrival. They
wouldn't try any more for a girl. But my dad wanted a female soul other
than my mum's, cheering up the house. So he got Matilda.

Yes, he named it Matilda. Horrible name I can hear you say? but not
really, once you got used to it, Matilda was a name like any other.
Especially since it belonged to a very sweet animal.

No. Matilda wasn't what people expect when they think "parrot". She was
contagiously friendly, very giddy (yes she was, I'm not inventing it.
It was my parrot! Are you going to tell me what my parrot could or
could not be like??) And the sweetest "person" of the house.

She learned our names really quickly. And she would say good morning to
us, when we got down for breakfast every morning.
She would ask as for food while we were eating. And she would talk and
talk, in a disorderly manner, only stopping to go to sleep.

When we came back from school, as soon as we opened the front door, she
would welcome us, calling our names once and again.

I think we all became very noisy because of Matilda's influence.

And that's how we went to be seven in our house.

Months passed by, and Matilda had already become "our sister".

She used to stand on our shoulders (if dad was home, he was always the
chosen one!) at mealtimes, and ask for bits of our food.

She would talk to us while we were rushing out, getting ready to go to
school, and she was always with us during weekends, playing outside,
learning new tricks, or new words.

I remember one day, coming back from a football match. As I approached
home I heard this squeaky voice calling my name, screaming once and
again. I looked around a few times; I couldn't believe it was
her!

Having Matilda home was fun. Though mum was always complaining about
how spoilt she was and how much extra work she meant for her.

But I think that's mums' prerogative. The truth is she loved her as
much as any of us.

Days and months passed by. We didn't remember how life was before
Matilda got home.

Christmas found us happy.

Like most families in England, we had prepared ourselves for it. Bought
a new, biiiiiiiiiiiiiig tree. A natural one, I will never be able to
forget its smell. Even before the night everything happened, the smell
was strong, overwhelming. As if the poor creature was trying to warn
us.

That's probably why my parent's had closed the living room's door that
night.

We went to bed exited. Christmas night!!! The day after was to be the
best day of the year for us? or wasn't it?

I don't know for how long I had been asleep. But I had had a few dreams
already when I heard her voice. She was calling our names, screaming,
in terror.

I remember coming back to sleep. Thinking that I had dreamed that too,
when one of my brothers started shaking me.

"Come on Paul! Wake up!!!!!!!!!!!!! We have to go!!!!!!!!!! Come on!
(Cough!) (Cough!)"

I opened my eyes, slowly, and I smelled it. That strong scent of
something funny burning? smoke? plastic? and something else? the
tree!

We could still hear her screaming. She would scream all our names
hysterical. And then make strange noises, trying to gain breath?

We woke our brothers, and then run towards my parents, who were already
by the door of their bedroom. They looked puzzled.

"Let's get out of here," I remember Richard, our oldest brother,
shouting. And we just left. The smoke was by then so thick we could
hardly see our own feet in there.

I was terrified? my heart was beating so fast it hurt.

Once out we cried. All of us. We got together in an all-family-hug, and
let our nerves get on with it. We knew we could be dead. We should
really? if it wasn't for? MATILDA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Then it got to us?

I don't recall who said her name first. What I can see clear as day, is
all our eyes fixed in our burning house? the light, the fire, the noise
of the wood disintegrating, and her screaming? it went on an on till
there wasn't any piece of living room standing.

We were in shock, just couldn't believe it. She was dead!!!!!!!!!! We
had let her died, and she had saved our lives! We hadn't even tried to
save her?

The television came, and interviewed my parents while the paramedics
were attending us. I can still hear my mum's words:

"She saved our lives. But we couldn't help her?" she said,
heartbroken.

To this day I can remember her screaming if I close my eyes and
try.

My mum never recovered from it. I think she had the worst part of all
of us. I guess women have always the worst part.

But my own sense of guilt mixed with gratitude is still there. Together
with the nightmares that torment me many nights.

We never got another pet, or another Christmas Tree.