The Duck

I am not sure how old I was when this happened...

we lived in Texas when I was in elementary school...this was then..

Mom wasn't married anymore, but she had a boyfriend.  He could break bricks with his bare hands.
On Easter we got three little baby ducks, one for me, my sister and my brother..  they were so cute, so soft and so yellow..Moms boyfriend fixed the garage so that the ducks could live there and not get out.  when the ducks were babies they stayed in a box in my bedroom, but then they got too big and had to move to the garage
at night they were so noisy, eventually the neighbors started to complain about the ruckus, so moms
boyfriend came and took two of the ducks away.  The duck that stayed could not "quack" so it was quiet.  I rushed home everyday after school to play with that duck..
one morning, I got dressed and sent to the garage to see my duck...when I got there, feathers were everywhere and a huge gap in the fencing..Duck was crouched in a corner trying to quack, but he could make no sound...He was bleeding.  I ran and got mom, she called her boyfriend who came over immediately.  He looked at duck and said "a dog got him"..

at some point during the night, my duck was attacked by a dog...I could not help him, save him...my duck must have been frantic, quacking that mute quack, screaming for me, screaming for help in silent fear...and desperation..

I watched as the boyfriend took a knife and cut off the ducks head...I saw the head still quacking, still desparate, still screaming for help...even though the head was not attached anymore...

I just sat and stared...I don't remember crying...