Little precious was given to me aged 7 weeks old by a good friend of mine.

Even at 7 weeks, this extraordinarily tiny little budgie was still dependent on hand feeding. He could not fly at all, he was no where near fledged. His little malformed legs were not of the greatest use, but they worked a bit. My friend told me that he may not 'make it', he had so many problems, but she also wanted him to have a home where he would be loved and treasured regardless.

So, Precious came home with me.

He had a specially adapted cage with platforms and ramps so he could get about, and a small sleep cage that he went in at night, so he could sleep safely at the side of me.

Precious was a darling little bird, and we formed a huge bond very quickly. The hand feeding, the fact that he just LOVED to be snuggled in my pocket and held against my heart, the way I went to sleep with his little bedtime cage next to my pillow made us seem as one unit. Precious came to the shops with me, snuggled in my pocket quite often. I just took him practically everywhere, especially if my journey out meant he would possibly have to miss a feed. So, he came with me.

Precious's condition seemed to be up and down. There were times when there was a noticeable improvement, he was showing an interest in feeding himself, his little legs seemed to gain strength, then he would sink again, but his little chirps of excited greeting when ever I came into sight told me he did have joy in his life.

Then one day, my tiny little friends cheeps to me seemed weaker, something didnt seem right. I scooped him out of his cage and it was clear to see, he was weakening desperately. A rushed journey to the vet where he was given a small steroid injection to hopefully give him the bit of a boost in order to fight back and pull through..

Very soon after we arrived back home, little Precious, resting quietly in my hands, passed away, peacefully. He died where he was happiest, held close to my chest where he could hear and feel my heartbeat.

It was time, he'd had enough and needed to move over to Rainbow Bridge.

I cant tell you how i felt, it cant be put into words. He was just 10 weeks old.

He was my little pocket full of love.

A post mortem (necropsy) on Precious revealed that he had been suffering from severe rickets. This condition affects the development of the skeletal structure, and also the muscular development. It was the affect on the muscular development that was to be the final kiss of fate on little Precious. His beautiful, warm, little heart was simply another muscle in his tiny body. That muscle tired, and failed. And so, Precious slipped into his final sleep. As I watched him through eyes that became more and more blurred with tears, I resisted the urge to try and stop the unthinkable from happening. It was no longer anything to do with me, it was Gods decision, and Precious’s choice to go willingly with that decision. It was not for me to intervene, other than hold him softly, gently, warmly,

In the world of rescue, we all know there is a time to fight, a time to be still, a time to rejoice, a time to cry. I think most importantly of all, there is a time to learn. A time where we learn when to STOP,  when to let go. A time when we move forward into possibly the most painful area, and seek answers as to WHY this happened. As painful as this step is, it is, in my opinion a vital one. From the answers we find, or are given, we can become better carers’ to the creatures that are guided into our care. If we can walk this final step of the painful journey of rescue with courage, and determination, then NONE of our dear loved ones will have passed in vain.

And that is what I believe is the heartbeat of rescue. No creature suffers, or dies, in vain.

It’s up to US.

We must never stop learning, and never give up.

For this is rescue.