The irony was not lost on Ivan that while he observed and cared for so many of God's beloved creatures, one of His most common seemed to give Ivan the most trouble.
Rooster was as temperamental as ever, stomping his hooves and whinnying with ferocity each time Ivan attempted to work his saddle onto the horse's back. There was a reason Rooster's previous owner had sold him at a discounted rate, and Ivan was the lucky bastard who got the reminder on a near constant basis.
Ivan had even tried to name the creature after those Ivan held so dearly. But it was of no avail. Ivan and Rooster mixed about as well as oil and water.
"He can sense your fear," Dave had told Ivan once, his hand coming down a little too hard on Ivan's shoulder, causing the boy to grimace. "You just gotta show 'im who's boss."
Ivan had desperately wanted to point out that he was a "boss" of nothing and no one, which is precisely why he took direct orders from his own father. But he refrained, fearing Dave would label him a smart aleck... again.
In the end, it came down to a trip into town for the necessary means for effective bribery: apples, sugar cubes, and oats. He began his trek back from the general store with all the items held up against his chest, wrapped in his arms.
"Okay," he sighed, standing before Rooster and eyeing the horse before taking another few steps forward. "Got everything you need right—" His foot caught. He didn't have time to acknowledge what exactly had caused his fall, the bags in his arms slipping free and spilling onto the ground. Rooster stamped out a few backward steps as Ivan adjusted the spectacles on his face only to spot the sack of oats pulled loose, grains dispersed across the dirt. "No, no, no..." Ivan griped to himself, trying to pile what he could into his hands. "Rooster, it's fine, see? Still good. Just..." Though he could see the soiled oats cupped in his hand.
He tried lifting it to the horse's snout, and Rooster pulled back, whinnying and tossing his head from side to side, as if shaking it "No, really, it's not..." Ivan raised some oats to his tongue, the sour kick of dirt dusting over it. He proceeded to flick his tongue back and forth in a desperate attempt to spit the taste free. "Okay, nope... yep, you're right— Augh..."
