I apologize in advance to my vegetarian readers.  You have to remember I am a born and raised Texan and we have a “beef” gene!  The bigger, the fattier, the juicier the steak the better!  If you are a vegetarian this post should give you some satisfaction, so just stick with me.  I don’t know why this popped into my mind….maybe my bath water was too hot, but it did and I decided to tell off on myself.

When I was a little girl, I am guessing around ten, my grandmother decided to buy a calf.  Yes, dear reader,  it is for the reason you may fear.  When she told me her plan, I was heartbroken!  I had fed that calf from a bottle and loved it!  Well, I loved it for a little while.  Thank goodness, my love turned to outright dislike because that was the meanest most ornery animal I have nearly ever seen!  She  never acted very bright.  I would lovingly feed her, her bottle and her eyes would bug out towards the bottle concerned with getting every drop.  I would think it was so cute, but when she had drunk it all she would never give me a second look.  She would  just turn away and start eating the grass.  I wanted to play and thought she owed me that much for loving her and feeding her as I did!  She didn’t feel the same way about things!

One day, we arrived at my grandmother’s and my mother went into the house and I announced I was going to see “Belle”.  I walked through the gate hoping today would be different.  I hoped Belle would want to play and frolic.  Obviously Belle didn’t get the memo on calves “frolicking” because she never did!  I thought maybe it was something they grew into.  I approached Belle and when she saw me coming she turned her back on me and swished her tail as though some pesky fly was of more interest than I was!  I cajoled, “Belle, Bellllle, come here sweet, pretty girl!”  She just kept chewing.  This “cajoling” went on for about ten minutes.  I then stopped and began to think.  Belle wasn’t getting any younger.  Her playful days were about to be outgrown quickly.  The chances of her ever being a loving and playful calf were almost nil to none at this point.  I had poured my time, sweat, and tears ( I am a wimp, as y’all know,  so I refuse to bleed!) into her and to no avail.  At that point (remember I have always been a spitfire) I got mad! I got good and mad as we say in Texas.  I began to make a ruckus as you have never heard!  Ruckus is Texan for “noise”.  I would run halfway to her, my hands waving in the air, and making some kind of attention getting sound.  Belle would look up momentarily as though I was the biggest bore she had ever encountered and would then start chewing again.  I kicked up another “stink” to get her attention, this time she ran just a little bit.  I thought, “Finally, maybe we will at least get to play chase a little!”  Since it was working I decided to intensify the ruckus.  When I did, she ran at me a little more, but then would stop and lower her head and began to eat again.  That did it!  I had, had enough of this cold chuck shoulder!!  I WOULD NOT BE IGNORED!  Belle was nothing but an ingrate and I decided the time to show her who was boss had come.  I ran with all my might at Belle screaming to the top of my lungs!  Suddenly, Belle looked up.  Then she did the most unexpected thing….she began to CHARGE at me!!  I started screaming “bloody murder” at that point and running faster than Usain Bolt!!  The problem here was, my grandmother had a cyclone fence and I couldn’t climb it.  I have always been a clutz and I was afraid I would fall on the top and mortally wound myself!  I screamed for my mother!  She didn’t come!  I screamed louder!!  About the hundredth time, she finally appeared.  When she saw Belle had me trapped on the fence she just stood there and laughed at me!  “Come get meeeeee!!!” I cried!  She came in the gate, Belle decided the grass was still more entertaining than me, and Momma carried me out of the backyard.  “Momma, why didn’t you come get me when I screamed for you??”  “You had been screaming this whole time, I thought you were playing!”  she said as she doubled over in laughter after she put me down.  Personally, I didn’t see what was so funny!

It wasn’t long after that time, we had the best roast I have ever tasted!!  “Maw, is this Belle?” I asked.  “Yep”, is all she said.  I grinned a possum grin and said, “GOOD!”  Something good finally came out of old Belle!!

The moral of this story is never buy a cow and expect it to act like a dog.


5 thoughts on “The Day I Learned the Difference In a Cow and a Dog

  1. I love this post, and can I add a thought of my own? “And never expect that you can live with one foot in the world, and one in heaven and ever experience the true joy, love, and peace that God intends for us all to have…” 🙂

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