Let Me Live!

Chapter 1

Getting a pet was the only thing my parents never allowed. My mom hated having animals in the house and even though we had a garden, she never agreed to buy me a dog or a cat because she said they will need a lot of care and attention.

I never understood how that reason is a valid one because I was a responsible person and I loved animals, especially dogs. My uncle had a dog –Snoopy—and every time I went to visit him I would spend my time with Snoopy while my mom would keep on yelling at me to get away from him or I’ll have to walk back home. She wouldn’t even come near a dog and if a dog ever tried to come near her then her screams will reach Australia.

I believed that she had Cynophobia— the fear of dogs.

My dad didn’t really mind getting me a dog since he had one when he was a kid but since my mom didn’t allow it then he didn’t allow it either. Mom took the decisions at home and dad just went along.

I spent years arguing with my parents because I wanted a pet. All my friends and relatives had pets except for me so one day my dad finally told me that he was going to get me a pet.

I was a fifteen year old Lebanese girl and a huge animal lover. I often spent hours at Beta (Beirut for Ethical Treatment of Animals), helping out with the animals there. Of course I had to get into a fight with my mom every time I wanted to go there but I eventually won those arguments.

I kept on thinking about the pet my dad was going to get me. I believed that he had finally convinced my mom that getting a dog wasn’t a bad idea. I even told all my friends that I was going to get a pet the next day!

I called my dad seven times in one hour the next day, begging him to return home already and give me my pet. He just laughed at my excitement but promised he would be home soon.

“Melody!” I finally heard my dad call me so I jumped out of my chair and ran to the front door to see my new pet. I was so excited I felt like I was going to meet Channing Tatum.

My excitement vanished, my smile disappeared, and my eyebrows rose when I saw a small red cage with a bird inside. A bird.

“Melody, this is Peggy the pigeon,” my dad said proudly. “Your new pet!”

I blinked at the white pigeon as it made weird noises. My new pet? It’s a bird! It’s not even considered a pet! It kept on cooing and jumping on the red bar inside the cage.

I gave the bird a weird look then gave my dad the same look. His smile faltered.

“Oh how cute!” My mom squealed when she saw the bird and I shot her a glare. “That’s what I call a pet! Not some dog that keeps running around the house and peeing on the carpet.”

“Dogs are friendly, mom! They’re loyal, they’re cute, and they’re good company unlike that pigeon!” I argued, feeling angry. I really thought they were going to buy me a dog.

My dad cleared his throat before my mom could reply. He never liked fights and always tried to stop them. He then said, “You know, my grandfather used to tell me a lot of interesting stories about pigeons! Stories about how they used to deliver messages.” He paused but when he saw my scowl he carried on, “I know you wanted a dog, Mel, but at least you got a pet, even if it wasn’t the one you wanted. Give the pigeon a chance. You might like her.”

I sighed. Why does he always have to be that convincing? I guess that’s why he is a successful lawyer.

“Fine, but if I don’t like her then I’m not keeping her!” I finally replied.

“Alright,” he said, giving me a smile.

Peggy made that cooing noise again and I sighed again as I picked up the cage and went up to my room. I opened my purple curtains then opened the glass door of my balcony and set the cage outside on my balcony. It was spring now, almost summer, so she wouldn’t get cold outside.

I went downstairs and got her some food and water. As soon as I put them in her cage she started eating.

My friends liked Peggy more than I did. I didn’t understand why they liked her that much. She was just a bird that kept on cooing and eating.

I treated her well, though. I kept on cleaning her cage and always made sure she had enough food and water.

Around a month passed and I started to get used to having Peggy around. During the first week or two I thought about telling my dad to take her away again because I didn’t like her but now I was actually starting to love her. Sometimes I would open my curtains and just watch her eat and drink while she coos.

After one month exactly, I bought her a thin blue ribbon with her name printed on it and wrapped it around her right leg. I was glad that my dad got me that pigeon but I didn’t tell him that. He did notice, though, that I had started liking Peggy.

Soon, I started to notice that the cage was too small for her to spread her wings. Every time she tried to open her wings they would hit the bars of the cage so she would close them and try once again after a few minutes as if hoping it would work the next time.

It made me sad to see her struggle like that so I told my dad that Peggy needed a bigger cage.

“Why?” he asked. “Her cage is good enough.”

“No! Look at her! She can’t spread her wings inside that tiny cage,” I complained.

“Alright,” he said, letting out a sigh. “I’ll get her a bigger cage tomorrow.”

“Thank you!” I said, satisfied.

The next day, my dad came home with a huge yellow cage. It was five times the size of the first one with a huge stand so the whole thing was as tall as I was.

“Wow! Thanks daddy!” I said excitedly as I rushed to my room, excited to move Peggy into her bigger cage. She would finally be able to spread her wings!

I opened the small red cage and took Peggy out then placed her in the new big cage.

As soon as she was inside her new cage, she spread her wings and I stared in awe at how beautiful she was. Her wings were much bigger than I was expecting!

As the days passed, I started realizing that even with the new cage, she was still unhappy. I ignored it at first, convincing myself that it was just my imagination but then I noticed that her feathers were falling and she had stopped cooing the way she used to. I was still giving her food and water and cleaning her cage but she just wouldn’t eat well nor drink well.

I even took her to a veterinarian but he said that she was not sick, maybe just lonely.

“She’s fine,” my parents kept on saying but I was not convinced.

“Maybe she wants to be freed,” I said one day.

“Maybe,” my dad said, shrugging his shoulders. “The decision is up to you, Mel.”

I gave myself the time to decide whether I wanted to free Peggy or not.

On one hand, I had grown to love her. I didn’t have any siblings and it was nice to have some company. I knew that she was the only pet my parents were going to get me.

On the other hand, she seemed so sad inside that cage and the thought of Peggy being sad or hurt made me sad. It was worse than watching her struggle in the small red cage.

It was not easy to let her go but it was also not fair to keep her locked up in that cage.

It was a Saturday when I finally decided that I was going to set her free. I carried the cage outside and set it on my front porch. She cooed and started jumping in her cage when her surroundings changed.

I opened the cage’s door and said, “Goodbye, Peggy.”

She just stared at the open door for a few seconds, now perfectly still, before hesitantly spreading her wings and getting out of the cage.

I watched her fly up in the sky and again marveled at her beauty. She looked much more beautiful when she wasn’t in the cage and I knew that she was much happier when she was free. Everyone deserved freedom and even birds did.

I kept on watching her till she was out of sight. I then went back to my room and immediately felt that my balcony was empty now that Peggy was gone. I closed my curtains for the first time in a long time.

She had been my first pet and she had been living here for around three months so it was sad to let her go but I knew that I had made the right decision.

The thing I wasn’t expecting, though, was for Peggy to return.