Lemmy

• Alannah Carey, Grade 6
• Short Story
• 2019

My bird Lemmy is useless.
When I asked for a pet, I meant something cool like a dog or a cat or even a lizard.
But no.
Mum gave me Lemmy, a stupid, fat yellow canary that does NOTHING at all, and even though I don’t want him, I have to keep him alive in order to stay alive myself. If Lemmy dies, I die. Mum would kill me.
I glanced over at Lemmy’s cage. He was in his usual position - sitting on the swing at the back of the cage - making annoying noises. Sure enough, he has finished the bird seed I gave him last week. Yes, last week. I actually have to feed him once a week. Honestly, for what he’s worth, feeding him once a week is too much. But if Mum saw the empty bird feeder, it would mean no Nintendo for at least a week.
I dragged myself off the couch and trudged over to the laundry, Lemmy still making his annoying noises. I grabbed the birdseed from its place on the shelf, and measured out the food. Then I filled the birdfeeder to the brim. Lemmy didn’t react to this at all, and continued to chatter to himself in the corner of his cage. I sighed and put the box of birdseed on the floor. I wrenched open the cage door and jammed it open, then I carefully put my hand inside. Lemmy looked up, but he still didn’t move. “Do something, Lemmy!” I yelled.
And then I poked him.
And that was possibly one of the biggest mistakes I’ve ever made in my life.
Lemmy let out a deafening screech, and sunk his sharp beak into my finger, piercing the skin. I yelped and stumbled backwards, wiping my burning finger on my shorts, staining them with crimson.
And at that moment, Lemmy noticed the open door.
Seizing his chance, Lemmy darted out of the cage, flying in mad circles around the room.
Finally he stopped, but the mayhem was far from over.
Lemmy landed on my head.
“Get OFF” I screamed, falling backwards onto Lemmy’s empty cage, knocking it to the ground. Seeds spilled in all directions on the living room floor and cascaded down the hall.
I had forgotten to put the lid on the feeder.
I moaned and stood the cage the right way up. Then, slowly and gently (in fear that he would bite me again) I lifted Lemmy off my head and over to the cage door.
“In Lemmy,” I said, my voice quivering a little. “Back in your cage.”
Lemmy turned to face me “No” said Lemmy softly.
I froze.
“I love you” he said.
I always thought canaries made stupid pets.
But I’d forgotten they could talk.