While I was waiting for the vet to call back to see if the avian vet was there, he passed away.
Riley was 25, and I raised him literally from the egg. He got his name, because he was easy to rile up and feisty. His partner, Mr Tweets, is sitting next to me. He knows Riley is gone. Tweets isn't tame, he hates hands. But he's sitting as close to me as he can without being on top of me. That's unusual for him. I hope I can be his comfort and his friend, since his bestie has flown over the rainbow bridge. I'm heartbroken.
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