:. weezer .:

No, not the band. The canary. This morning when I was logging on to my email I heard the weirdest little noise: a raspy, whistling kind of noise. It took awhile, but I finally realized it was coming from my little Mozart. He was asleep . . . and he was WHEEZING.

Perhaps you don't understand the implications of a wheezing canary. Birds are in BIG TROUBLE when they start having respiratory problems. And the cold winter weather can be a killer.
Oh. No.
Not Mozart.

One of my dearly-held tenets is: Life is too short not to have a canary.

I get made fun of a lot for my love of feathered friends. But during the January doldrums, while the rest of the Midwest is suffering from seasonal affective disorder, my little canary is singing away, making things feel like a warm spring day. He is a big part of my mental health plan. (Not to overstate things, but it's true.) Besides that, canaries are sweet little birds; they have no annoying habits . . . unlike, say, Quaker parrots.
Over the years, I've had canaries come and go. This little guy (Mozart 5) is particularly adept at singing. It's LOVELY. And it never fails to lift my spirits.

In spite of the wheezing, he seems to be okay; he's not acting sick or anything.
I'm gonna keep a close eye on him, though.
I can't afford to lose springtime.