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It was our regular Sunday meeting and Snowball broke into a passionate speech about how and why the windmill should be built. I declared myself against this idea from the beginning, everyone should have caught on that had from when I urinated all over Snowball’s plans for the windmill. This strongly divided the whole farm on the subject of the windmill. I have to admit Snowball’s speech was intriguing, but just as the vote was going to happen; I stood and let out a high-pitched whimper.
This was my, what you could call a ‘code’ for my monstrous dogs to join us in this gathering. They dashed straight for Snowball, just as trained to. Snowball only sprang from his place in time to escape from their snapping jaws. He was out the door in seconds with the dogs at his feet, he suddenly slipped and it seemed certain that I had finally gotten rid of him for good. I don’t know how but he managed to get back on his feet, running faster than ever. One of the dogs had all but closed his jaws on his tail, but he whisked it away at the last minute.
With a few feet o spare Snowball dived into a hole in the hedge and was no longer seen. Silent and terrified. That is what I wanted them to be. The dogs came bounding back to me whilst everyone crept slowly back into the farm. I think they all realized that these were the puppies that I took from their mothers and privately reared. They kept close to me and wagged their tails in the same manner as the other dogs used to do to Mr. Jones. With the dogs following me climbed onto the platform where Old Major once stood to deliver his speech, so I delivered mine here.
I announced that this would be the last Sunday meeting and that they are a waste of time. In future, all questions that relate to the working of the farm will be answered by a committee of pigs selected by yours truly. There would be no more debates. Napoleon’s Diary Destruction of the windmill have claimed all credit for the windmill idea. All of the animals are working harder under the promise of easier lives with the windmill. Either I am the best liar in living history or these animals are the most gullible in history.
I eave two aims at the moment; the first one is to have everyone wrapped around my finger. Which do. The second one is to rewrite the past, villainies Snowball and glorifying me. I woke up to hear several cries of despair from most of the animals’ throats. Apparently, the windmill was in ruins. I did suspect this because of the terrible weather conditions last night. I had an idea. What if Snowball supposedly came onto the farm during the night and destroyed the windmill? Hay. I’m so evil. Squealer justifies everything say so there is no need to worry about him.
With one accord I dashed to where everyone was, anger gradually building up inside of me, tail going rigid. Time to put on a great show, thought. I boomed suddenly, making all the animals turn their attention quickly to me. Went on and on about why Snowball was horrible person, until I said that whoever managed to find Snowball would be awarded ‘Animal Hero, Second Class,’ and half a bushel of apples. If found alive a whole bushel! If he was found then HE would be awarded with the death sentence, and quite a nasty one I have in mind, I might add.