Hey there, and welcome back to Animal Farm: The Novelization. This chapter will be the last we see of the book part of the plot for a while. After this will be some original chapters, inspired by a movie or a book or two.

On an unrelated topic, is anyone getting interested or excited about the Pokemon Sinnoh remakes and Legends: Arceus? While I don't have a Nintendo Switch, I like to keep up with news relating to Pokemon and see what new Pokemon, new regional forms, and new evolutions will appear. I'll even look forward to possible new evolutions for starter Pokemon.

Uploading Date: October 25, 2021

Enjoy!


Chapter 11: The Tragedy of Boxer

The animals were rebuilding the windmill yet again, having done so the day after the Battle of the Windmill. Boxer's split hoof hadn't healed properly by that time, but he refused to take even a day off and tried not to let the others see the pain. In the evenings, however, he would give his deepest thoughts about the situation.

While Clover was treating his hoof with poultices of herbs that she prepared by chewing them, Boxer talked with her and Benjamin. "My hoof has been bothering me for a while," he admitted. "It's been troubling me since the Battle of the Windmill."

"Then don't work too hard," said Benjamin, who was grooming Boxer's mane to get rid of parasites. "For all your hard work, you'll die easier."

"He may be right, Boxer," Clover chimed in, plastering the chewed-up poultice over his hoof. "A horse's lungs don't last forever."

"But I can't give up," said Boxer. "I have to work harder. Napoleon said I must. Before I retire, I want to see the windmill at least almost finished."

In the beginning, when the laws of Animal Farm were first formed, the retiring ages had been fixed: horses and pigs at twelve years old, cows at fourteen, dogs at nine, sheep at seven, and fowl at five. Old-age payments had been agreed upon. While no animal had retired with pay yet, the subject had lately been considered more and more. Now that the small field beyond the orchard had been set aside for barley, it was rumored that a corner of the large pasture was to be fenced off and turned into a grazing ground for handicapped animals. For a horse, it was said, the payment would be five pounds of corn a day, fifteen pounds of hay in winter, and a carrot or an apple on public holidays. Boxer's twelfth birthday was due in the late summer of the following year.

Life was as harsh on Animal Farm as ever. The winter was colder than the previous winter, and food was even more scarce. Again, all rations for everyone but the pigs and Napoleon's dogs had been reduced; the pigs were even getting fatter. When someone once complained about this, Squealer decided to explain himself.

"Rations that are too equal," he explained, "would be against the principles of Animalism. The truth is, we're not short of food, whatever the appearances might be. For the time being, we do have to make a readjustment of rations." To the animals, Squealer always called it a "readjustment", not a "cut". "In comparison with Jones's day, we've made a big improvement!"

A bull asked for evidence, and Squealer scowled at that bull. So reading out the figures in a shrill rapid voice, he informed them that they had more oats, hay, and turnips than they had had in Jones's day. They worked shorter hours, their drinking water was refreshing, they lived longer, their young ones were sure to survive past their infancy, and they had more straw in their stalls and suffered less from fleas. Most of the animals believed every word of it. To them, Jones and all he stood for had almost faded out of their memories. They knew that life now was harsh and bare, that they were often hungry and cold, and that they were usually working and nothing else. But to them, it wasn't as bad as it was in the days of Jones. They were glad to believe so.

"Besides," Squealer had concluded, "we were slaves and now we are free, and that makes all the difference in the world."

Thirty-one piglets in total were born on the farm in the fall. Most of them were piebald, and as Napoleon was the only unneutered boar on the farm, he was their father. He would take charge of his children's education until they bought timber to build a schoolroom. The piglets were dissuaded from playing with the other young animals on the farm and were permitted to force another animal to stand aside and let them pass; he even declared that they should be the only animals to wear green ribbons on their tails on Sundays. While the farm had a moderately successful year, they still needed money and supplies, and the pigs needed more beer for brainpower. That included hoarding all of the barley for themselves, and no animal would be getting warm mash in the chilly February days.

In spring, Animal Farm was declared a republic, and it was soon time to elect a president. Since there were no other animals to challenge him, Napoleon was elected unanimously, though a few had their concerns...which were then silenced by the sheep bleating "Four legs good, two legs bad" for perhaps the thousandth time. It was also a day of marching and songs, with the gun being fired, all in Napoleon's honor. It was later to be called a Spontaneous Demonstration, held once a year on the anniversary of the election. When the day of the election was over, Squealer had given out that fresh documents had been discovered, revealing more about Snowball siding with Jones.

"Comrades, this is very important news," said Squealer as the animals had gathered in the barn. "Snowball has not merely attempted to lose the Battle of the Cowshed using deception, as we had thought he had done. He has been openly fighting on Jone's side all this time! It was he who had led the human forces and charged into battle with the words 'Long live Humanity' on his lips!"

"Wasn't he wounded?" asked Clover. "We saw Jones fire his gun at him."

"Those were not the marks of a bullet," answered Squealer, waving a dismissive trotter. "You've been lied to again, comrades. The wounds on his back were done by the teeth of our beloved leader, Comrade Napoleon."

Many of the animals nodded, satisfied that they had been mistaken. The more he heard this, though, the more Sam was sure that the pigs were just making up lies now. He had seen Snowball being shot, limping ahead. And where was Napoleon? And Squealer, for that matter?

During the summer, Moses the raven had suddenly returned to Animal Farm after years of absence. He was the same as when he had left the farm: he still did no work, and he kept telling animals about the world beyond their own. "Up there, comrades", he would croak, pointing his beak to the high hills of England, "look to where my beak is. Up there, just on the other side of that dark cloud, you'll see Sugarcandy Mountain: that happy country where we poor animals shall rest forever from our work. There are enough treats and sweets to choke a Glasgow bull!"

The pigs still disapproved of Moses telling anyone about this magical land. But since it kept the animals happy and clueless, they let Moses stay and preach about Sugarcandy Mountain and also let him have some bread soaked in beer. Yet Napoleon had warned him that if he taught the animals to rebel against him, he would have the raven killed, taxidermied, and stuck onto the hoof-and-horn flagpole.

...

Boxer's hoof had finally healed, and he was working harder than ever. Apart from the usual farm work and rebuilding the windmill, there was also work done for Napoleon's piglets' schoolhouse, which began in March. Food was low, but Boxer kept working and never faltered. Thus, the other animals knew that nothing said or done would keep the Clydesdale horse from working as hard as he could.

But as he continued working, some animals had noticed that he had gotten thinner, and his coat was less shiny than it once was. They believed that he would gain more weight when spring came, but spring had already come, and he kept losing weight. His ribs were becoming more visible each passing day.

"Boxer, you must take better care of yourself," Clover was gently scolding Boxer. "If you don't rest, you won't work harder."

"But I can't give up," grunted Boxer as he had hauled his load to the windmill. He was sweating worse than ever, even more than when he usually worked. "I must use all of my strength."

"You won't use it anymore if you don't rest," Benjamin warned him. "For goodness sake, you even have your twelfth birthday approaching. As your friends, Boxer, we're telling you: slow down."

Boxer rested his muzzle on Benjamin's forehead. "But I can't abandon the windmill. I have to work harder."

Benjamin wrenched away. "Forget the bloody windmill just for once," he snapped. "Please, Boxer, please rest."

But Boxer didn't listen. He trudged slowly away, leaving Clover and Benjamin to give each other worried looks.

Then the inevitable happened one late afternoon in the late summer. The animals were hard at work at building the windmill, just working on breaking more of the quarry's stones for the structure. It was then when a pigeon came racing out of the air and fluttering among them.

"Boxer has fallen!" she cried as she flew over their heads. "He's lying on his side, and he can't get up!"

All the animals perked up from their work, fear on the faces of Benjamin and Clover.

"Where is he?" barked Sam.

"At the windmill," said the pigeon. "Quick! Follow me!"

So she led the way, and the animals rushed under her shadow, reaching the hill where the windmill stood. There lay Boxer, between the shafts of the cart. His neck stretched out and unable to raise his head, his eyes were glazed, and his sides were soaked with sweat. A thin stream of blood was trickling out of his mouth. Moses was perched on one of his legs, cawing up to the heavens and preaching that Boxer would soon arrive at Sugarcandy Mountain.

Benjamin was the first to reach his old friend, shooing Moses away. Sam had never seen the old donkey show such emotion before. He was gently trying to nudge Boxer awake, braying to the sky and calling for help.

"Boxer!" cried Clover, galloping over until she reached the fallen horse. "How are you? Can you get up?"

The huge Clydesdale coughed and looked around at them all, slowly coming to. "It is my lung," he said weakly. "But I know you'll finish the windmill without me. To tell you the truth, I've been looking forward to retiring. And since Benjamin is growing old too, maybe Comrade Napoleon will let us retire together."

"We need to get help right away," said Clover. "Run, somebody, and tell Squealer what has happened."

So Sam and Jessie had raced across the field and back towards the farm buildings. Fortunately, Boxer had recovered enough to still stand and walk, with Elijah the camel helping him stand little by little. Clover and Benjamin stood on either side of him as he half walked and half stumbled to where the farm buildings were, with the other animals abandoning their work to assist in any way. They finally reached the barn, where Clover and Benjamin led Boxer to his stall and gently helped him lay down.

For a while, Clover and Benjamin stayed by his side, trying to help clean his wound and wrapping Boxer's leg in a bandage. Elijah managed to bring over a bucket of water so that Boxer could get something to drink. A little bit later, Squealer arrived with Sam and Jessie leading him into the barn; they had let him and Napoleon know what had happened.

"Any improvements?" asked Squealer. "Is he well enough to work?"

"No," said Clover. "I don't think he can work anymore. He may need to retire."

Squealer nodded. "I see...what a shame. It is with comforting news that our leader, Comrade Napoleon has heard of what happened to one of the most loyal workers on this farm. As we speak right now, he is making arrangements to have Boxer here treated in the hospital before his retirement."

"The hospital?" asked Elijah. "Don't animals need a vet for healing?"

"Yes, but the hospital is faster to get to. Besides, that hospital can cure both animals and humans." Then his courteous manner vanished as he commanded, "Now get back to work!"

"I don't think we should leave him," said Jessie. "Clover and I have to help them."

Sam walked over and gently nudged her with his nose. "I can do some of your work for you. You spend as much time as you can with Boxer."

"Back. To. Work," Squealer repeated sharply, nudging Jessie away from Boxer. "Then afterward, you may tend to Boxer."

The animals wanted to protest; they wanted to be there for Boxer and help him get better before he would go away. But of course, the Animal Guard dogs had to be there, growling and baring their teeth. So Sam, Jessie, Clover, and Elijah had to leave Boxer's side and go back to work. Benjamin stayed long to wish Boxer good luck before joining them.

...

For two days, Boxer did not leave his stall in the barn. The pigs had given him some pink medicine found in the bathroom, which Clover gave to him two times a day after meals. Whenever he had his breaks, Benjamin would join them, swatting flies away from Boxer with his tail and grooming his mane. Boxer was glad to look forward to his retirement, and he would leave the hospital, he promised to spend his days improving his mind and studying to get smarter. In fact, he promised he would get past the letters A, B, C, and D and learn the rest of the alphabet.

Then the day finally came for when Boxer had to leave. The animals were busy weeding the turnips while under the surveillance of a pig, so they couldn't be by Boxer's side forever. As they were working, Benjamin came galloping to the field, braying loudly and frantically. No one had ever seen the old donkey act this way before.

"Everyone, come quick!" Benjamin called. "They're taking Boxer away!"

"Hey! What about your work?" called out the supervising pig.

But the animals ignored him and rushed out back to the farm buildings. Just in time, they were seeing Boxer clambering into the back of a large white van, which was pulled by two slightly smaller Belgian Draft horses.

"Goodbye, Boxer!" they chorused. "Goodbye!"

But when the back doors closed, Benjamin started stamping the ground. "FOOLS!" he screamed at them, sounding both furious and terrified. "Fools! Fools! Do you not see what is written on that van?!"

There was a hushed silence following his words. Muriel began to spell out the words, but before she could finish, Benjamin pushed her out of the way and read the words silently. After another moment of deadly silence, he spoke.

"'Alfred Simmonds, Horse Slaughterer and Glue Boiler, Willingdon. Dealer in Hides and Bone-Meal. Kennels Supplied!'" he read aloud. "Don't you understand, everyone?! They're taking Boxer to the knackers! They're going to kill him!"

A cry arose from the animals, just in time for the van to start pulling away. The driver whipped the horses to move out, and they started trotting away, picking up the pace. All of the animals chased after the van, crying out to Boxer at the top of their lungs.

"Boxer!" Clover exclaimed along with Jessie. "Boxer, Boxer, Boxer!"

At just this moment, as if he had heard her, the Clydesdale's head poked out from the small window at the back of the van.

"Boxer, get out!" Clover cried. "They're taking you to their death!"

"They're going to kill you!" screamed Jessie.

"That van belongs to the knackers!" added Benjamin. "Get out, Boxer! Hurry!"

Boxer ducked his head back inside, and his friends weren't sure if he fully understood. Then the animals heard him making a racket as he was using the last of his strength to try and escape, kicking and shoving. But that only sapped his remaining strength, and they could no longer hear any thudding.

In despair, the animals started pleading with the two horses pulling the van. "Comrades!" cried a cow. "Comrades, stop! Don't take your brother to his death!"

"What good will that do?" Sam barked, too frantic to sound annoyed.

And indeed, it didn't do any good, for the horses only quickened their pace. Someone had even thought too late of closing the gate, but the van had already gone through and was now going down the road. It was too late for them to stop the van.

Boxer was never seen again.

Clover broke down and cried, and Jessie wept with her. For the first time, Sam saw tears rolling down Benjamin's cheeks as the donkey sobbed for the loss of his best friend.

...

Three days later, all the animals were called to the farmhouse for an announcement. Sam's heart nearly stopped when he and the rest had their worst fears confirmed. Even with all the supposed great care he had, Squealer explained, Boxer had died at the hospital in Willingdon.

"It was the most moving sight ever! I was by his side until the very end," declared Squealer. But it was here that Sam saw his little eyes dart suspiciously from side to side before he continued his eulogy. "Before his voice failed for the last time, Boxer whispered to me that he was sorry to have died before the windmill was complete. His last words ever were 'Forward, comrades! Forward in the name of the rebellion! Long live Animal Farm! Long live Comrade Napoleon! Napoleon is always right!'"

Sam - who had wept for Boxer with everyone - suddenly gave a glare of his own at Squealer. Was this how the pigs used Boxer's death? Just to glorify Napoleon? He even felt Benjamin stiffen next to him, guessing that even he was feeling furious.

Then Squealer spoke again. "However, some of you have been spreading a foolish and wicked rumor. You have thought that the van that took Boxer was from the glue factory. You had foolishly decided that Boxer was sent to be butchered at the glue factory. How could any animal be this stupid?" The sheep were scolding themselves, most of the other animals felt ashamed, and Squealer carried on while skipping from side to side with his tail whisking. "Surely, comrades, surely you know our beloved leader, Comrade Napoleon, better than that? The van had once belonged to the knacker, but it was bought by the doctor, and he had forgotten to paint over it. So no more rumors." He lifted his trotter and concluded, "Long live Comrade Napoleon!"

Most of the animals began murmuring the same phrase. But Sam and Benjamin could not do it...or in this case, would not do it. Instead, both of them frowned hatefully at Squealer.

Squealer had noticed this too, looking fierce. "I said, long live Comrade Napoleon!" he screeched.

Before Sam could open his mouth to growl something, Benjamin was already braying angrily. The old donkey looked ready to go right up to Squealer and kick him or bite him. Sam found himself wishing that he could do that too, to shake Squealer and force him to confess.

But that was cut short when Napoleon's dogs came out, barking and growling to break up the crowd. The animals made off to the windmill to work, but not before Benjamin glared over his shoulder at the pigs and dogs. Yet there was nothing that anyone could do about it.

On the following Sunday, Napoleon had appeared at the morning meeting and said a short speech in Boxer's honor. "Comrades," said he, "we couldn't bring Comrade Boxer's body back for burial. Instead, we will arrange for a wreath of flowers to be placed on his grave. After that, we will all hold a banquet in Boxer's honor. Remember his maxims, comrades: Remember as he had always said 'I will work harder," and 'Comrade Napoleon is always right'.' Those are words that an animal should live by."

But a few nights later, the animals had been waiting anxiously for the food promised to them by Napoleon. But they later found out that there were no good amounts of food awaiting the working animals. Some of them had witnessed the pigs getting some alcohol from the grocer in Willingdon, getting drunk from it and slurring "Beasts of England". They didn't emerge from the farmhouse until the previous afternoon, clearly hungover.

There was no feast to honor Boxer. Instead, the pigs had used the money they had gotten for Boxer's death to buy more alcohol. And from then forward, Sam hated the pigs of Animal Farm with a bitter hatred.

To be continued...