Also, I'm sorry to hear about your cats.
I had a bird once that was of the greatest esteem to me, named Rose (Rosinha). She was the pet that I was the closest to, ever. I have had many other birds in the past, and they were all raised in cages: budgies, canaries, cockatiels, etc, but she was special. She was raised free range, in our house, and our farm, where she would wander around freely in all the greenery, minding her own birdie business. She would love to hang around and play at the guava and blackberry trees specifically, as she would spent quite some time pecking the fruits in there. She just loved the taste, and it was always impressing to me just how much a green little featherball could eat.
She had always returned all the affection I had to her as well, and if you left her in a room full of strangers, she would scramble around trying to find me, and whenever she did, she would climb up my clothes all the way to the top, and rest on my shoulder. She would not stop prancing around until she found me. It was funny to see her walking, she would have this goofy walk, swinging her little tail side to side, side to side, back and forth, very cute.
On my tween years, I had a rocker phase, and I had long hair. Same length as Zhenya's today, same colour as well, except I had (and still have) more hair than she does, and more volume. She would love to play with my hair, and she would just love to hide behind on my neck, and rest underneath all that hair, where it was warm.
Finally, she was also very friendly to everyone, would let anyone pick her up, play with her, no biting, etc. She was always up for a treat as well, she just wouldn't pass any. Like her owner I guess, lol.
Once I went on a trip accompanying my mother on a health care issue, a detoxing programme, three states over, and couldn't bring her with me. Otherwise, we were inseparable, and the only time we weren't together was whenever I was in school, in the mornings. But on that occasion, she was left to the care of my always 10/10 father, who neglected her, and unfortunately as a result of that, she was attacked and partially eaten by a stray cat roaming our farm.
I cried COMPULSIVELY when I heard about it, and the trip which wasn't already a very nice one got even worse, AND I still had about one week left before I got back home. I would spend the remainder of my time there bawling my bloody eyes out, and the focus of the trip which was to take care of my mother's health ended up turning to me, as I even stopped eating for a while.
When I did get home eventually though, first order of business: I got to locate the perpetrator, and I beat that cat to death with a broom handle. By that point, confusion, sadness and sorrow had piled up, and turned into pure blistering rage, as I ended up hitting it with so much force I eventually broke the broom handle. Still, on kept on beating it, the lifeless corpse. When I got enough, I dumped his body on the eavestrough. Later on that day, at twilight, I kept thinking that wasn't going to work out, eventually it was going to start smelling, so I got up on the roof, retrieved its body and dumped it on a small waterfall system that runs through our property, and watched it getting carried away by the stream, at the very last rays of the sunset.
That was one of those "100 days in your life you will never forget" moments, for sure.