Szechwan (Pepper) hasn't been singing lately. Usually, he's very busy, and loud. I'd even consider him the dominant male in the Finsterium, with all the singing he does. But not lately. He isn't singing his Hunka Hunka Burning Love song, and he isn't building his nest. He's active otherwise, but not in these two important ways.

This could be due to a few things, or a combination of them. The weather is getting cooler and the daylight hours are getting shorter. He's a smart bird, and he may be taking a break now that it clearly isn't Mating Season. Or, he could be going through a molt, and is cutting back on other activities while that happens. He's so darned naked, it's hard to tell if he's molting or not.

Or, like Frank, he may have stopped singing because he's nearing the end of his life.

Bruce and I went to Ikea yesterday, and got a bunch of new shelves to completely change the space where Peanut's cage used to be. The cage itself is waiting to be tucked into a closet somewhere — most of his toys and play gyms should fit inside it. I think we've found most of the snacks we'd hidden everywhere, and there are only a few other bits and pieces to be tucked away. I think it helps to change the space; otherwise the memories would just be too hard to deal with.

Don't worry: the Peanut Clock that Bruce's mom made is prominently displayed on the new shelves. And despite retiring the Peanut Song, it still lives in my memory and annoys the heck out of me by periodically getting stuck in my head. And of course, Peanut is in the freezer.

But it's useful to be setting new routines, I think.

Bruce says the evenings are the hardest, since he had perfected The Art Of Eating Dinner With A Small Bird Sleeping In His Right Hand, and of course because he was the primary giver of Warm Toasties, being the Big Sweaty Hand, and all. I say the mornings are hardest, because although I still get breakfast ready for the Finsters, there are so many things I don't do for Peanut anymore. No seedballs for breakfast, no wheat berries for breakfast, no hidden oat groats or sunflower seeds to find, no chance to look for corn or soaked seed snacks on the counter....

Peanut's breakfast was a lengthy and multi-faceted event, filled with flights to the Finsterium, my head, and back home again.

Really, I'll have a lot more time on my hands, once I finish moping about Peanut.

After 28 almost straight hours of Warm Toasties, Peanut died just before 1 p.m. on Sunday.

R.I.P Peanut, April 4, 1998 — September 3, 2006.

Peanut is not doing well. After years of being his Food Bearer, his Plate, his Perch, Play Gym, Landing Pad, Climbing Tree, Potty Hand, and countless other things, I have now become Peanut's Hospital Cage.

The Daytime Warm Toasties and Bird Ruffles gradually grew into nearly constant attention on Thursday. Now that Bruce is home, we're taking turns being the Hospital Cage.

Peanut is on antibiotics (just in case), a kidney medication, and an anti-inflammatory (also for the kidneys). We decided against taking another blood sample since the first one was so hard on him, he's in worse shape than before, and the medicine won't hurt him. If it helps, we should know in a couple more days.

Giving him the medication hasn't been too hard. Luckily, he likes to take drinks from new containers, and the meds are in liquid form. I've mixed them with a few drops of water in a spoon, and offered it to the bird. He doesn't love it, the taste must be off, but I withhold water for an hour or so beforehand, and am very persistent, and patient, so it's worked pretty well. About as well as with the Finsters, when I catch them up and put a drop of medicine on or near their beaks. After Peanut has drunk his medicine water, I give him "real" water, to be sure he isn't getting dehydrated.

We have moments of fear, like this morning, when it took an hour before he woke up enough to drink anything, much less his medicine. But then we have happier moments, like this one:

He actually got up and yelled at Bruce to pick sunflower seeds out of the toast.

But after that little adventure, he went right back in my hand for more Warm Toasties. Soon he'll probably turn his right cheek up to ask for Bird Ruffles. Because apparently, when you're sick, your right cheek just can't get enough love.