Waking up to a canary’s song is such a beautiful experience, as long as it’s not happening at 5 am on a Saturday. I love it when Wally gets on my shoulder but damn; I would love to snap his neck after she shits on me.
She loved the outside. I never seen him talk to any birds; though I like to think that she had lots of friends. My mom took her cage outside so he can get that fresh air. I saw her trying to get out so I opened the door for her. She was chirping to her friends telling them to come hangout and eat some seeds. In the distance, a cat took notice and came close to Wally, who tried to get big and hold his ground against the cat that was approaching.
That didn’t last long. The cat took a swipe at him, Wally cried for help and tried to fly away but then the cat pounced on Wally’s neck. Chirping for her dear life under the cat’s paw. Wally begged to the bird God to save her.
The cat bit his head off and ate the rest of him.
I didn’t see if this actually happened. This is what I just like to think what happened. The last time I saw Wally was when I opened his cage door so I’m really the one who killed him.
There was no trace of him.
My third pet bird.