After I had Melanhead for about a year, we had grown accustomed to placing his cage on top of the milk box on the back porch. This was so he could get some fresh air. My room was pretty stuffy way down in the basement.
On the night of my spring piano recital, we left him outside while we went to the church. I had a cub scout meeting before the recital and then we had the recital and refreshments afterward. When we left the church, we discovered that it had rained the whole time we were in there. We drove home not remembering that we had left Melanhead on the back porch.
We were still glowing over the successful piano recital, when my dad opened the back door and discovered Melanhead’s cage. The bottom portion was an inch deep with water. Poor Melanhead was lying dead in the water. He had drowned.
We were upset at our carelessness, but mostly sad. Melanhead had been a little friend to all of us. We had to catch him many times when he escaped from his cage, but we would have gladly chased him all over the house again if we could have.
I refused to believe that he drowned. I speculated to my family that maybe he got hit by lightning. A few years later my younger sister, Julie, who was six at the time, was describing some of the pets we had over the years. She said, “Melanhead got lit by thunder.”
Coming Tomorrow: Lovemore
What? He actually drowned? All these years I thought he really did get "lit by thunder"
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