Posted 10/20/15 (Tue)
It happened just a couple of days ago. And it was quite a sight.
I guess I’d better start at the beginning.
I, we, have this big black bull. I mean a real big black bull. Stands as tall as a saddle horse. And he spent most of the summer with the neighbor’s cows. I don’t know why. That’s just what bulls do. Anyway, he spent the summer across the fence. They say the grass is greener on the other side of the fence, but really, I don’t think he went for the grass.
Well, the neighbor, Mike, was trailing his cows home last week. And he said he’d cut this bull back. I said to just kick him in our saddle horse pasture when he went by.
Mike did this, and I kind of forgot about the bull till I went to town a couple of days later. Here stood the bull, over in the corner, all by his lonesome. Since he hadn’t had a drink in a couple of days, he was a little gaunt.
Shirley and I saddled up and loped the mile over to this bull. He threw his head in the air, eyeballed us, and then just trotted for home. I couldn’t have been more proud of him. Not one bad move.
When we got him to the yard, he got a little excited. He ran down in the brush along the creek. Thick, thick, brush. I sent Shirley and the dogs in. Out they came. No bull. I went in on foot. The bull ran me up a tree. I didn’t know I could climb until that bull came crashing through the brush. I screamed at Shirley for help. She always saves me.
Being smarter than the bull, I smoked a cigarette and devised a plan. I went and got the old crippled cow and the midget bull out of the sick pen. I got them over by the mad bull and they led him right into the pen. The only problem was that now I had the mad bull in with the sick calf we had to doctor.
By now, this bull was mad. Real mad. He’d make a run at you every time you set foot in the pen. I could see he was a lot quicker than a big fat 60-something-year-old man. Gosh, was I proud of Shirley when she walked in there on foot to get that sick calf. Actually, I was too shocked to say anything. I guess she had kind of drifted off or something. Shirley and that bull spotted each other at the same instant.
It was better than watching the PBR on TV. That bull dropped his head and made a dive across that pen for Shirley. Shirley was right next to the fence and made a dive for the top rail. I swear, if she hadn’t had coveralls and mittens on, she would have made it. But she kind of slipped. I was too shocked to laugh. Like a cat, I jumped off the fence. Well, actually, I didn’t. But up until now I’ve told the truth.
Shirley started to climb the fence and that bull got there. I couldn’t stand to watch. I closed my eyes. I felt sorry for the bull.
But that bull must have heard the stories. When I opened one eye a little bit, that bull was jumping back and forth with his head about a foot from the part of Shirley that couldn’t get up the fence. He was bellering and blowing snot all over the back of Shirley’s carharts. It was great.
When she finally got over center and tipped to the ground, I started applauding. I mean it was a standing ovation. And I’m not sure if she’ll ever forgive me for that. And I meant well.
I gotta go feed the bull. My help is on strike!