Poor old Johnny Gould died last night. He was Leader of the Pack of the four Gouldians who share my house and enrich my life. This is him on the floor of my living room a few hours before he died. I don't know why it happened. It was cold, but the other Gouldians in my house are just fine. He was the first bird I ever owned, and was only about two years old. I didn't bury him; I placed him under the mulberry tree for Nature to take its course.
In the dawn hours he used to do great courtship dances with Lizzie
in my shower while I shaved. I won't forget Johnny and his lust.
See ya, Johnny Gould. You meant a lot to me.