Pete, The Meanest Bull in the County (And My Best Friend)

Now most of the time when the adults were screaming and running around, I just didn't get it. Well, that's a bad choice of words, because most of the time I DID get it! But you understand what I'm talking about. They just seemed to be acting like the world was on fire.

Well, here's the reason this day they were acting that way.

We raised what my grandpa and my dad called "puddle jumper" cows. Don't ask me why — even today at 60 it doesn't make any sense. I guess it was because none of them were pure breed. Well, all except Pete.

Pete was a pure bred Black Angus bull that weighed about 1,400 lbs. Now he was the best for doing what grandpa bought him for. As a matter of fact, when it wasn't breeding season you just couldn't move Pete to another nearby pasture — not if you didn't want to be fixing fences all the time. Grandpa and dad had to load him up and move him to the "Russell Place," which was about a mile or two away.

Now the Russell Place was one of my great uncle's pastures down on the creek in the middle of the woods. I mean the middle of the woods — not near the road, not near any house. To say the least, he was all alone. Now he got used to being by himself and really didn't care much for human companionship. Okay, I'll say it — he was mean! Well, to everyone but me.

One Sunday after lunch at grandma's (did I tell y'all how that lady could cook? Mmm.) while everyone was still in the house around the table and in the den, I had slipped out and headed to the barn.

Now I don't know if they started missing me or if my Uncle Buck just came out to smoke, but he looked into the pasture and saw me walking straight toward Pete. Now that's when the commotion began. He ran toward me hollering for my dad as he cleared the fence. Right behind him was my dad and my grandpa. Now they weren't as agile as my uncle, but through the fence they came.

About this time I was about 25 feet from Pete when he noticed them — and in the words of George Jones, "the race was on." Pete ran after those 3 men like a Spanish bullfight. They'd dive under the fence and he'd turn his attention to the others, all the time yelling at me to get out of the pasture. This went on for a little while.

Finally it all calmed down and Pete walked over to me and just stood there while I scratched and rubbed his nose. Then he calmly turned and walked away.

I never told them — I'd been doing that for about a week.

I bet they could have used some of my Classic Clean Soap back then. (Snicker) Maybe even some Mountain Fresh for the pants they were wearing. 😄