I am a relatively laid back person. It takes a lot - A LOT - to get me riled. My family has only witnessed a handful of my truly outrageous meltdowns. Probably the one that my older kids remember is the 'Great Chili Meltdown' that resulted in both kids not only 'enjoying' their chili but asking for more. I was pregnant with my twin daughters at the time.
Today I headed home from work after a very productive day. As usual, I was happy both with my workday and with the prospects of enjoying time with my kids. At 5:13, I called home to find out that the bull, Lunchbox, had escaped. Not only from the barn, but from the pasture. This was not good. My son and daughter were the only ones home. And I had to pick up my other daughter from soccer at the other end of the valley.
I arrived home and Lunchbox was still on the loose. I grabbed a bucket filled with grain which any other day, he would turn cartwheels and rub my feet to have an extra bucket. Not today. Nothing doing. He strutted across the neighbor's yard as if he owned the joint. I repeated lured him over to his pasture and repeatedly he would get as far as the gate and then take off again.
I was hysterical. How in the heck can I manhandle a 1000 pound bull? A stubborn bull. A devil of a bull.
How did I do it? I called (in hysterics) my best buddy. She couldn't understand me and she told me she would call her husband. I calmed down a bit and explained the problem. Within minutes, he called and said that he and his son were on their way down so that I was able to go and pick up my daughter.
I wasn't worried about Lunchbox doing more than eating the neighbor's peach trees because he is basically lazy and uninterested in anything other than eating. But they are really good neighbors who put up with an awful lot from me and my animals and I don't want their trees ruined.
So, while I was gone, my best friend's son and husband came to the rescue. With lassos. And by the time I returned home from picking up my daughter, Lunchbox was safe and sound in the barn. Well secured. Because we are rednecks.
I do want to mention that during this whole ordeal, I did not swear. Not even on the inside. I prayed instead. And let me tell you that prayer is way more productive.
But there is a definite reason why my farm is NOT One Old Cow Farm!!!!!