My dad has quite a lot of different pets; chickens, zebra finches, parakeets, dogs, cats... But we also have to deal with deaths of animals, which can be hard, even for the smallest ones. Last weekend, when we went to visit our dad, things were normal. But when I went to feed our finches, I noticed that one zebra finch was gone; George. After further investigation, we found out that he must have gotten out by squeezing through a pretty small crack in the cage, which had gone unnoticed by my dad. He could have been ANYWHERE in the bedroom, or in any other room in the house; maybe he had gotten outside even! Zebra finches are TINY birds, so he could be anywhere; under any of teh beds, under any of the burrows/desks, behind the fridge, under something...So, we grabbed a flashlight and searched almost everywhere that he could be; whenever a finch gets out, he/she tends to fall behind a bed/desk, and since they can't see in the dark, they have a hard time getting back out. But after checking under all the beds, no George. We decided to wait and see if he would come out. so we waited and waited for the rest of the evening, but there was no sign of the poor finch. Before bed, I decided to look one more time. I found a thin cardboard box, which had a battleship game in it. It was lying up against the wall, the top of the box open. I shined the flash light into the box, and to my dread, there lay poor George, dead. We guessed he had fallen into the upright box and couldn't get out. So, we got him out and decided to cremate him(burn him in the fire place). Normally, we would have buried him outside in the animal "grave yard", but there was too much snow. We said good bye and placed him in the fire. He had probably been in the box all week or so, because my dad never noticed him; can't blame him, since Zebra finches are hard to count every single day because they are so small and quick. But I feel bad because he must have starved or something. Poor George. He wasn't really my finch(he was my brother's) but it was still sad. George was really young, too. Wasn't a year old I don't think. He was the son of our other store-bought finches, who laid the eggs and they hatched. Only two finches survived; George and his smaller brother, Cheeky. Cheeky died last Summer mysteriously, and he was my finch, so it was sad, too; not to mention he died right in my hands. But anyway, George is now in "Finchy Heaven" and at peace. He will be missed, but at least he lived a short yet happy life. Thanks for reading! R.I.P. George the Zebra Finch.