The Red Feed Bucket of Death

An Op- Ed by Rosa, Nigerian Dwarf Wonder Triplet

To the innocent bystander, the red, food-grade plastic bucket from Tractor Supply Company may have looked harmless- innocent even.

But that's where you'd be wrong.

That bucket is evil.

It masquerades as a bucket of hope when it carries containers of grain for breakfast, but it's out for blood!

There I was the other morning, minding my own business, when this empty bucket by the loft ladder started whispering to me.

It promised me food, grain, the kingdoms of the earth, if I could just reach the bottom of the bucket with my nose.

It didn't seem unreasonable, and the Farm Woman had been remiss in not giving me an extra serving of deliciousness that day.

I thought it would be safe, it lay so still and unassuming on the floor.

That red feed bucket was a liar.

As my innocent nose stretched for its destination, the thin metal garrote of a handle slipped over my head, down my neck and laughed with the tones of a lunatic scientist who has finally snared his first victim.

All of the voices of my prey animal ancestry screamed in my ears like the shrieking of mythical banshees," FFFLLLEEEEEEEE! FLEE FOR YOUR LIFE!"

My muscles obeyed with a speed that belied my stout frame ( the Farm Woman thinks I'm a little fat, but what does she know), and I ran out the barn door into the yard.

But the Red Bucket of Death pursued!

With a grip of iron it clung to my outstretched neck, and in my terror I tried to scrape it off with the outside wall of the barn.

My friends ran after me, a chorus of concern and terror at my fate.

I ran a full circuit around the perimeter of the barn, determined to outlast the fiend around my neck, but it was clever and slid down in front of my front legs to take away my speed.

Then the Farm Woman, helpful only with her opposable thumbs, slowly walked towards me like this wasn't actually a matter of my life and death.

She claims it was " to keep me from panicking and running again", but I know she must be in cahoots with this bucket because as soon as she got close enough to touch me, she grabbed its handle and lifted it clear.

She made it look simple, easy, non-life threatening...

They're in cahoots, this Red Bucket of Death and the Woman.

If I don't make it, you'll know who responsible.

Signing off,

Rosa