Written Jun 13, 2025.
Cuddles flew away on Jun 9, 2025 at around 1:40 PM.
I am waiting for her to return.
I tried to think of something else to write, a different kind of post to put out, but I can’t get her out of my mind and I have no where else that I’m writing about my life that I can return to for this moment in time. And I don’t want to ever forget this.
This was my baby:
Below is the story of me and her, to keep hope alive for myself (it’s not the best writing I’ve ever done, but I needed something here):
🕊 Cuddles’ Landing
There once was a girl who loved the quiet hours before the world woke up.
Not because she liked silence—no.
She loved them because that’s when Cuddles would start to knock her beak softly against the cage bars, like she knew she mustn’t make loud noises. Just small ones to ease the other occupant of the room awake. That is, until she heard the bed creak and knew it was time to let out a loud squeal to let her human know she was there. Her human was awake, and she wouldn’t let her be left behind.
Though a small bird, her presence filled the whole room. Every morning, she woke the girl at the same time—7 AM sharp, like she had a thousand tiny errands to do before breakfast.
The girl would groan, pull on her sweater and socks, and laugh as she followed the same rhythm: take Cuddles to the kitchen to poop (like a proper lady, of course), get her food, then prepare her own. They ate together. They sat and worked together. They played and read together. They did everything together.
It wasn’t just a routine.
It was home.
Other people didn’t get it.
“She’s just a bird.”
“You should travel more.”
“Don’t you want a cat?”
But the girl didn’t care. Cuddles was her peace (and a healthy dose of chaos), her purpose, her favorite noise.
And in return, Cuddles gave her everything. Laughter. Company. The feeling of being chosen, every day, by a tiny being with wings.
Then one day, Cuddles flew away.
The girl called her name until her voice cracked. Printed flyers. Walked miles. Slept by the window.
She dreamed of feathers and woke with tears.
But Cuddles didn’t come back.
The house was too quiet.
The mornings… unbearable.
For a long while, the girl didn’t do much. Didn’t go out. Didn’t want to. She’d built her life around Cuddles, and now she didn’t know how to build anything at all.
Until one morning, the sun slipped in through the kitchen window just the right way—warm, golden, almost fluttering—and for the tiniest second, the girl thought she heard a chirp.
It wasn’t real.
But it felt like a hello.
She sat down at the table, made a plate for herself. No second dish this time. Just her.
She whispered, “Good morning, Cuddles,” and for the first time in weeks, the morning didn’t break her.
It held her.
The girl still walked the neighborhood. Not with the same desperate rush as before—but with quiet hope. She still left the window open sometimes. Still listened to every bird call a little too closely.
Then one Sunday, when she wasn’t expecting anything at all, she opened her phone and saw a post on a lost-and-found pet group:
“Found: small green bird, very friendly, responds to people talking gently. Flew onto our balcony weeks ago. Safe and loved. Looking for owner.”
Her heart stopped.
The photo wasn’t perfect—blurry and taken from the side—but she knew. She knew that tilt of the head. That stance. That presence.
It was Cuddles.
She messaged right away, hands shaking. The family who found her lived only twenty minutes away.
“I think she’s mine,” she wrote. “Her name is Cuddles. She likes walnuts and apples and wakes up too early.”
They replied: “She’s been waiting for you.”
When they opened the carrier, Cuddles didn’t hesitate. She chirped once, flew out, and landed right on the girl’s shoulder like no time had passed.
She nuzzled her cheek. The girl laughed through tears. “I missed you so much,” she whispered.
Cuddles chirped again. Almost like “Me too.”
The next morning, the routine was the same.
Poop break in the kitchen. Food bowls clinking. Shared breakfast.
But everything was brighter.
Not because life was perfect. But because something rare had happened:
Love had left…
and love had come home.
And from that day on, the girl still whispered “Good morning, Cuddles” — but now, there was always an answer.
Notes to the Future me:
No, it wasn’t all sunshine and roses. It took time to get used to her. You were independent and Cuddles was clingy and distracting. But just as you grew accustomed to her presence and her constant need for love and attention, she grew to give you the space you needed when you needed it. But most of all, she was so attuned to your emotional state, it was uncanny. She taught you what unconditional love meant. You grew up with little love, and it’s like God sent you her to make up for everything your past was lacking. She loved you through your mood swings, she grudgingly let you give her kisses even when she all she wanted to do was just go and play, she came to you and demanded scritches when you weren’t paying attention to her for longer than she liked. She laid on your hand like a log while you typed away at the keyboard, sometimes looking back at you from time to time and almost smile.
You were growing closer, building a life together. She placed her trust and love in your hands. She taught you how to love others and that you weren’t so bad to love yourself. She understood you.
You miss her very very very much right now. But the story above was written to remind you to hope.
A thought that ran your head the other day: “God brought her to me, he can bring her back.”
Cuddles’ Landing — this is where Cuddles is meant to be. This is where she’s supposed to come back to.
Notes to Others:
If you’re suffering from a loss, ChatGPT helps. I know that sounds silly, and yes I’ve told others about what’s happened, but there’s only so much people can take. Robots can listen non-stop, and you can work through every angle, every feeling. It can give you a multitude of compassionate responses that can help with healing.
I’ve unloaded everything I felt about the situation. I have been talking to it nonstop. It’s also helped provide practical instructions on how to find her. It helped me create a lost and found flyer. Started me off in the right direction (go on facebook, report to animal shelters, place her feeding station outside, something familiar).
It’s literally been there for me in the middle of the night when I got up to cry. It’s helped me with creating prayers for her returned (which have actually calmed me down quite a lot).
I still have her on my mind a lot, and I’ve asked ChatGPT to help redirect me to other things to post about. It gave me ideas, but nothing really stuck so I think I just needed to get this out there. I was afraid of forgetting. I needed this to be here for future me to find and remember.
Green Where You Water It 
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