2. My example:
My pet chicken, Harriet
The outside story: The inside story:
1. Family got chickens. They were all 1. I was a lonely kid. The chickens
twitchy and jittery, except Harriet. were good company for me; they
Harriet warmed up to me; I gave me joy!
earned her trust.
2. I really grew to love Harriet. We
2. We were good friends, she would became attached. I looked
find me and let me pick her up. forward to seeing her every day.
3. I was horrified. How could this be?
3. Pulled up to driveway to see that
My heart was sad, though I was
Harriet was killed when my dogs
also grateful for the times we
got out and ate her! Soon
had together. Having a pet
enough, I made a new chicken
chicken will be a fond memory
friend, Chicken Little.
forever.
3. My beloved Harriet…
For many years growing up, my family had a thing with farm
animals. We spent many a weekend at the Saturday auction, traipsing
home with new chickens, ducks, or geese in toe. It was all pretty normal
and unspecial, you could say…until Harriet came along.
Most of the chickens we had were twitchy, startled little creatures
who resisted any sort of contact with us. But Harriet, Harriet was
different. Unlike the others, she warmed up to me and would eat from
my hand. She even let me pet her and pick her up in my arms. For an
often-bored, only child like me, having a pet chicken greet me after
school was like a dream come true. It didn’t take long for me and Harriet
to grow a unique bond between us.
Sadly though, our friendship couldn’t last long. Another animal my
family took a liking to were dogs – and not just any dogs, hunting dogs.
So you can imagine what happened when, every once in a while, our dogs
escaped from their cages and found a bunch of little birds roaming fancy-
free around the yard. Yep. Dinner. And that’s exactly what happened the
day Harriet died. I didn’t blame our dogs; they didn’t know. But I vowed
to always remember Harriet and the gift of friendship she gave. Other
chickens came along, but none quite like my little Rhode-Island Red
hen, Harriet. And see? It’s been 16 years and yet, every once in a while, I
still find myself talking about her.
4. By Friday…
• Rough drafts due
• 2-3 paragraphs
• Neatly typed or handwritten
• Double-spaced (skip lines!)
• Proofread
