He Who is Attaked by Animals

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He Who is Attaked by Animals

When I was in grade school, my family lived seven miles outside of Lincolnton, Georgia, about fifty miles north of Augusta. It wasn't really a farm because technically farms produced something; all our farm produced was trouble. We owned probably some of the most vicious animals in Lincoln County. This tended to keep the flow of friends to our house down to a minimum. Many of our friends had been bitten, kicked, cut, and bruised at the very least. These attacks could cause physical and emotional trauma at worst, and the publicity surely didn't encourage other friends to visit. We had chickens, cows, horses, cats, dogs, turkeys, fish, and geese. As harmless as some of these animals may sound, I was severely injured by every one of them. From being kicked and bucked by the horses, to being bitten and mauled by the dogs, we knew it all firsthand.

One day my mother, unknowingly, made our situation worse. She went to visit her best friend, Molly, who was a fellow animal lover and member of the Lincoln County Humane Society. Molly would occasionally invite our family over for dinner, and we always went, never suspecting her underlying scheme to rid herself of annoying and potentially dangerous pets. She had collected these animals through the years from abusive families. Molly was quite a character. It was amazing how she could manipulate a conversation about her grandmother's spaghetti recipe to how much my mother would enjoy having one of her smelly goats or pissed-off fighting cocks as a pet of her own. I didn't understand how these conversations could persuade my mother, yet they worked every time.

Once Molly decided to convince my mother that we undoubtedly had to have a six-month-old fighting cock that had been confiscated by the Sheriff's Department. It had formerly belonged to our third cousin, Billy Joe Paradise, who had traveled to Louisiana on the weekends to fight his batch of cocks and had told my brother and me, time and again, how much fun it was. Though we were not into animal cruelty, thanks to Molly we were blessed with his offspring anyway, and the rooster became ours.

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