Stupid
Leo Lawton
We was brung up on a farm. Before we was very old we knew all about life, how it came to be, and how short it could become. Our farm was a dairy and we knew all about calves being borned, and how before they was a day or two old they went off to the veal market. Short and sweet, life was quick.
What difference did it make? Animals was dumb anyway. There wasn’t any of ‘em had a lick of sense. When we was filling the silo with corn, and all the juice was squashing out, our chickens would happen along and gulp it. Now if you think animals ain’t dumb, then you just ain’t never seen a drunk chicken.
I was ten when we got Stupid. No, we didn’t get stupid. He was a puppy that showed up and adopted us. He was just one of them strays of life that happen, I think. Stupid would chase his tail ‘til he’d get dizzy and fall down. Then he’d chase my rabbit, ‘til Bugs would get sick of it and stop. Stupid didn’t know what to do about that.
One day Stupid got too close, latched onto poor Bugs, and broke his neck. Stupid just sat there with his head cocked sorta cornerways and stared. His friend wouldn’t run any more. As I watched a tear coursed down my cheek. From the wind, I think. Animals is all dumb anyway.
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