Birds come in all shapes and colours. Some have brilliant plumage, some sweet songs and some sharp claws. For me, Little Black is my favourite.

Little Black, as the name suggests, is a black bird. A bit ugly and silly as he appears, he is in fact very smart. He can say “Good morning” to us. Unluckily two weeks ago, he deserted us.

Little Black used to live with my grandparents. That day, when dawn broke in the morning, just as usual, he got off his perch and fluttered happily around the living room. My grandpa was still in bed at the time. Little Black made a noise on purpose to rouse my grandpa. Grandpa ignored him. To attract my grandpa’s attention further, he began to chant, “Bad Man”, loudly.

Grandpa could not stand being disturbed. He said to Little Black crossly, “Go away, you bad bird. I want to see no more of you. Go away!”

Out of the window flew Little Black. He has not returned ever since.

It is sad that I cannot meet Little Black any longer. Grandpa regrets yelling at his pet bird. Had he treated Little Black kindlier, the feathered friend would still be with us.