Mollie:The Unfaithful Comrade

Late Tuesday night, the pigeons reported that after doing their daily flying, they witnessed Mollie standing outside a pub in town with Pilkington and his men, also spotted were her infamous ribbons which were braided delicately through her much coveted white-blond mane. It’s been common knowledge that Mollie was not working as much as she was expected to and she finally abandoned all of us on the farm.



We all remember that first night, when our beloved leader of this rebellion, dear Old Major, was sharing with us his electrifying dream and Mollie made a comment stating how she was worried about the availability of sugar cubes and ribbons while our farm is going under the great revolution. We have all dismissed these half-thought out questions, thinking that Mollie was simply young, and wet behind the ears, but they have continued comrades, and came to the point where it was hard to ignore her whinnies complaining about all the work that was expected of her. Thankfully, our leader, the great Napoleon was able to deflect the situation, and explain to Mollie that these things that she thinks of as “necessities” are completely superfluous and excessive for the simple lives that the animals should be leading.



Mollie was the one who dragged Mr. Jones’ trap, was used to the constant pampering she was accustomed with from the days of Manor Farm. After Mr. Jones was expelled from the farm however, Mollie had to become quickly familiarized with the fact that the days of getting ribbons braided into her mane were over.


Over the past couple of weeks, Mollie’s unhappiness and unwillingness to work has become noted by all of us on the farm. We’ve all witnessed her watching others do the work on the windmill, or on the fields. When confronted with the question of why she was never on task, she would respond by saying that she either has a rock in her hoof, or a pounding headache (sugar withdrawals).



It was reported by a very reliable source, our dear old Clover, that Mollie was even caught at the drinking pool, instead of at work on the windmill and that on more than one occasion, Clover found Mollie at the border of our farm and Pilkington’s, partaking in conversation with one of the stable hands. After this, piles of sugar and ribbons were found in her stall. Three days later, our ex-comrade was discovered missing. Weeks later came the sighting of her at the pub with a calm smile on her face, which begs the question, was she wiser than the rest of us to keep what made her happy? After recent events, most of us on the farm would be sensible to follow her lead.