bbq calf

there was a feed lot full of week old steers. all were crying and disoriented. they were being snatched up by carloads of hispanics for that weekends festival bbq. i couldn't tell who was in charge and it was a melee in spanish. soon there were only a couple of bawling calves left and as a ravenous looking hoard descended upon them, i impulsively snatched one up. his jet black fur was silky and fine. he was dehydrated and hungry. my touch seemed to sooth him. my friend said, 'oh my god, shandra, that is a baby COW! it has balls and will grow to 12 hundred pounds- you cannot be serious about keeping him?!' i ran through the accommodations for him at the casa and realized since the horses were gone he would have the turn out and the barn to himself. of course he was so frail that he spent the first few months of his life in the warmth of the my house with regular bottle feedings and cozy naps by the fire. he was bathed and brushed regularly and was soon completely potty trained. i was surprised by how love-centered he was. he really only cared about the safe and the cozy and was perfectly content to tuck in unobtrusively, find a warm, soft spot and be with us. he was a dear little fellow and although i thought the arrangement on the cray-cray side of things, it seemed to be working out so i just flowed with it. i had him fixed so he wouldn't go hormonally insane and he just grew and grew. he was loyal and calm but could be quite intimidating when strangers entered the property. i worried he would be shot for beef when he was pastured, so i made him an elaborate and artful collar with a bell that i hoped would speak to his status as a beloved pet and soften the heart of any potential poachers.