As I walk towards the coop in the gathering dark, four pairs of eyes glow in the beam of my flashlight. “Hello, cows?” I say hopefully.
For a moment he is startled. Deception lies in the mind, not the eyes, he decides, meeting the grey glazed glance of the mackerel.
Octopus wanted a job. So he got some ink from Squid. Having three hearts and eight limbs he’s perfect for the role of writing love letters.
The animals won the war, abolished capitalism, and replaced it with the law of the jungle. I was surprised at how little difference it made.
“You gotta be tough to farm,” he always said, but she was sure she saw tears in his eyes as he carried the stillborn alpaca away.
She stares into the sea. She spots a speck and hopes it’s him. They shake their heads and walk by. She’s been here for ten years now.