I regret the loss of so many of my chickens who's death could have been prevented. So many got trapped outside at night, not to be found again in the morning. And so many had a heart attack or stroke and if I had been there a moment before I could have saved them...
But Blacker was my worst failure. I kept him, too, despite the fact that he picked on Oreo, a kind, sensitive rooster. One day, as I went to give the chickens their food, Oreo waddled up to me. I stared in horror at his eye, mutilated and infected.
I screamed, and Blacker, the evil, foul one, attacked me, something he had never done, for he knew that one kick from my steel-toed boot could send him flying halfway to China. I grabbed him with my hands, and flung him into the large pail of water that the chickens drank out of.
After floating for a while he was able to get out, but I was already running to the house holding Oreo, my dear, sweet, Oreo.
He lives to this day, though, but only with one eye. Now Blacker is locked up, and I have made plans for him to be butchered. I hope he suffers three times worse than Oreo ever did, as the blunt axe head comes towards his neck, screaming.
Oreo boy, the pretty one, I have nurtured him, and cared for him, and now we are closer than ever. But still, he has only one eye, and if I could have, I would have killed Blacker earlier, with my own hands squeezing the life from him. Never have I felt as much hatred for any living thing as I have for Blacker.
I would do anything to get Oreo the other eye he deserves, rather than a sunken, white hole. He is everything anyone could have ever asked, and I feel that he should have everything, everything, that he has given me: love, friendship, joy, and the sweetness of feeling that someone in this world understands you, fully, completely.
Oreo, sweet one, pretty pea, tender chicken, I love him.