Calves and Jeeps

A few days ago, a very old cow had a calf. She cleaned him, then left him. She had no milk, so she did not care if he lived or died. Therefore I was put in charge of doing the old cow's duty: caring for HER calf. Well, the first two days he did not do so well. He did not want to drink colostrum (first milk) and he did not want to walk. Therefore, I decided to take him home so that he could get a little excitement flowing through his blood. I laid some paper sacks in the back of the jeep, then my great-grandmother and I loaded the calf into the back, and I was soon down the road on my way home. About 15 miles down the road, the jeep motor suddenly died. I tried my best to make it to a lease road to park, but it refused to make it that far. I barely made it into the bar ditch, and I was an inch away from the road. “Oh great...I am going to get run over or blown away by some semi-truck!” I said. I said a quick prayer, then got out, opened the hood, and checked everything I could think of: The oil, the gas, the battery. Nothing seemed wrong, but here I was stranded in the middle of nowhere in a jeep that would not start, with a sick calf in the back. But I was not too worried. I had a cell phone, and I had God. I picked up my cell phone only to find it flashing red and saying 'LOW BATTERY' Now I was about to panic. I was not afraid of being stranded. I was afraid of the creepy guys that might like to find a stranded girl in the middle of NOWHERE. “Don't worry. God is bigger. Remember that He says I can call on His name in a time of trouble.” then I looked at my phone “Please phone! Last me just a few minutes!” I dialed my grandad. After about 15 rings, I hung up. I dialed my great grandmother...the call did not go through. No ring, no dialing; just dead air. So I tried to dial my grandmother. The same thing happened: dead air. I began to sweat “Oh you stupid cell phone! What good are you???” Dakota, my temporary hearing dog, leaned over from his seat, and gently licked me on the arm, then whined, and gave me the sweetest look like: “Don't worry honey. It's going to be OK.” I rubbed his head then said “You're a good boy. Now shut up and sit down.” I tried dialing my grandma one more time. This time it rang, and she picked up on the second ring. I told her in 10 seconds my plight and my location, and she said she would inform my grandad. “WHEW!” I felt better. Thank you God! 10 minutes later, there was nothing, and two guys had already stopped and asked if I needed help. I kept the crow bar near to me, smiled, prayed, and told them that help was on the way, and would be here any second. All this time, the poor, sick, calf is sitting quietly in the back of the jeep...until suddenly, he lets out a long bawl followed by a long winded flatulent. “NO BUBBA! DON'T POOP IN THE CAR!” I yelled. I jumped out of the jeep, ran to the back, and flung the back door open. Then the little calf let two days worth of poop spurt all over him, and the papers in the back. “Oh Bubba! Why did you have to do that RIGHT HERE RIGHT NOW?????” The little fella simply answered me with a sigh of relief. I slammed the back door, and stormed back to my seat at the front, but I had not sat there long when the smell that Bubba's poop emitted began to roll my stomach. So I got out, walked around, and opened the back door to let the jeep air out. 15 minutes later, my grandpa showed up after 3 more people had stopped by to offer help. “You won't believe what the calf did.” I said (after offering up a prayer of relief and thanks), then I informed him of the horrible instance. “Well...you got the little feller excited!” He tells me with a smile. After he tried several things, he attempted to start the jeep. “Aha! It's the fuel pump! Can ya hear it?” He asked me. I grin, listen, and shake my head “Nope” He tried starting it again, but to no avail. When he stepped out of the jeep, he looked a little green around the gills. “That calf does stink a little bit, don't it?” I grinned again and look him in the eye “You should have tried it with the back door CLOSED.” I said. We decided to tow the jeep back to my Great-grandmother's. It did not take us long to accomplish that task, and my grandad said I could use the Blue pickup to get home. As he backed the pickup up, I open the back door of the jeep and gasped “Oh Bubba! You did it AGAIN!” The calf was now sitting up, and looking happier now that he had again pooped as well as peed all over the paper sacks in the back of that poor jeep. My grandad came around to see, and gasped “Oh @#&$#@!” Says he. He grabbed the calf by the tail, and picked it's little bottom up, and as he saw that all the icky stuff was all over the calf, more expletives came out his mouth “Oh that's nasty! I don't know how we are going to do this...” We successfully pulled the calf out, and placed him gently on the back of the pickup. Then I cleaned up the nasty papers, gave my grandad my condolences, and headed home in a much nicer, and cleaner vehicle. The blue pickup only wanted to drive 45 mph, but I was able to cox it into 55mph. The calf is now doing VERY WELL, and getting big and fat off of fresh goats milk everyday. As for the Jeep....well, I will have to fill you in on that one next time, because I myself am not even sure if it has survived and aired out completely!