Last week, my sister's beloved lovebird, Tico, died. Becky had been stressed for weeks, studying night and day in preparation for her "comps," examinations required for graduate study in English. Becky has neglected her own wants and needs, let alone those of the exuberant bird. But now it was too late; she'd never see her peach-faced friend again. Heartbroken, she blamed herself for Tico's illness and passing. For example, Becky had recently lost her patience with Tico's relentless, high-pitched shrieking, particularly during study hours. To discourage these outbursts, Becky covered Tico's cage with a towel, banishing her to another room. The shrieking grew worse; however; perhaps Tico was trying to tell her she was sick. Becky, however, had been too wrapped up in her studies to notice. And now Becky was holding herself in contempt, as if she had been a negligent mother who had ignored the cries of her hungry infant.
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