The Dreary Days

Each day is harder then the last. I fear I will become victim to starvation, for I cannot even find so much as a good meal on my own. Perhaps if I had been one of the animals actually DOING the work rather then sitting back being the boss, I could know something about this land and grow some food. As it is, I eat what grass I can stomach. My meager sleeping quarters under the tree has proved less-then-suitable for the simple reason that every morning I wake more sore then the last.

I haven't seen so much as a pigeon for three full days, and I have grown lonely. I long even for one of the long-winded debates that Napoleon and I used to have.
Just writing that name makes me sick to my stomach. Napoleon.

What a monster. Replaying events in my head, I have no doubt that that pig is filled with deceit to the very top. Now, not only does he posses that deceit, but he is able to force others to believe it with an iron fist. How I wish I could save the others from their inevitable fate. None except Squealer and Minimus posses the kind of thought process that could stand up to Napoleon. I fear, however, that as neither of those two have come looking for me by now that they are in league with Napoleon.

So, I have no one. I have nothing.

Snowball