Three days ago a dog attacked what I thought to be my favourite duck and I had to kill her myself with a hatchet. It wasn't until plucking I realized it wasn't my favourite duck. Everyone was happy for me, but I was still miserable. Nobody seems to realize.. I still went through the turmoil and emotion of KILLING MY FAVOURITE DUCK. They think just because it turned out not to be her (they look a lot alike, especially bloody) that I'm okay and fine and happy. I'm not. I'm still shaken up over the fact I had to slaughter my own duck when it was hurt. Then my favourite Wyandotte chick died. The splash I've raised from an egg from a styro box and a heat lamp. My favourite chicken. Just... dead in the lawn. I don't even know how because instead of GETTING ME, my stupid flatmate put the chick in thefreezer.. I was AT HOME. Now there's nothing around to tell me what did it or how. I don't know how she found the body, if there were feathers.. what. I just know my favourite chick (pullet) is now dead. And this morning I found two ducklings dead in their pond. Where was the ramp I had built for the ducklings? SOMEONE HAD TAKEN IT OUT. I don't know WHO, but I told them WHEN I PUT THE RAMP IN WHEN THE DUCKS HATCHED DO NOT REMOVE IT BECAUSE I'VE HAD DUCKLINGS DROWN KEEP THE RAMP THERE/ But NO. The ramp was NOWHERE in sight. I have NO idea where it is. Someone in this house neglegently killed my ducklings. So yeah. I'm falling apart. I've lost FOUR this week. FOUR. I'm a mess. Somebody hold me. My husband forgot to even ask me how it made me feel when I told him. Nobody cares how IT MAKES ME FEEL. They just want to know what happened. I TOLD YOU WHAT HAPPENED. HOW IS LIZ? IS LIZ OKAY? No, Liz is not okay. Liz wants to run awau. Liz is crying. A lot. Nobody asks... nobody freakin' asks... Sorry... I just found them ten minutes ago.