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Old George
| Open Poetry #13 |
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Old George |
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Joyce Johnson
since 2001-03-10
Posts 9912Washington State 
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George was Daddy's prized Hereford bull. He loved that ornery cuss for the good progeny he bred. Not true for the rest of us. George was about to be a steer, when his size caught Daddy's eye. He said,"He'll make a real fine bull. By George, I'm going to try." So that's how Georgie got his name. He was truly a big calf. Compared to others of his age, You could say, "Calf and a half." I had four active big brothers, and each a mishievous lad. What one of them didn't think of, the others already had. Lloyd and Charley were bored one day and wanting to find some fun, tossed stones at Georgie in his pen, just to see him paw and run. The young bull would come after them as if to tear them in half. They stayed just outside the fence and would hoot at him and laugh. Our dad scolded the two of them, told them they shoulldn't do it; or there would likely be the day, when they would come to rue it. Those two rascals didn't mind him; both too young to use good sense. One day young Georgie had enough and he went right through the fence. Lloyd climbed a tree and Charley ran. The bull chased, wanting to gore. Charley just made it to the house and inside the kitchen door. Mother quickly slammed the door shut, as George hit it really hard, and wildly pawing and snorting, went tearing around the yard. We smaller kids would always check, before going out to play. If George was anywhere around, we would stay inside that day. My daddy never turned him loose. He was locked in a strong pen. But no fence built could keep him there if old Georgie had a yen We knew who'd have to fetch the cows if George was in with the herd. Dad would grab his trusty pitchfork, go for them without a word. My brothers could ride for the cows. That would rile old George of course. If he couldn't get the rider, he would aim right for the horse. Mother had a talk with Daddy. "I have had enough." said she. "You're getting rid of that huge bull. It is either him or me." Our Daddy guessed that she was right. He locked him in the horse barn, to be hauled to market by truck, before we might come to harm. George tried for a different ending to this little country yarn. He went through a tiny window, taking with him, half the barn. Daddy called on all his neighbors. They made up a posse, to catch the ornery critter and to send him on his way. We don't know what became of George, but few of us were sad. We smiled and said, "It's good riddance, except of course, for our dad. Was he made into hamburger or perhaps a hearty stew? Trying to bite on George, I think, would be a really tough chew. By: Joyce 4/12/01 |
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| © Copyright 2001 Joyce I Johnson - All Rights Reserved | |||
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JamesMichael Member Empyrean
since 1999-11-16
Posts 33336Kapolei, Hawaii, USA |
Interesting...so this is the fate of a bull...he would of had a good run on the annual street run in Spain...James |
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Joyce Johnson
since 2001-03-10
Posts 9912Washington State |
Thanks James. George was a killer. Daddy could probably have gotten a higher price had he sold him as a bull. But sooner or later he would have killed someone. So in all good conscience there was nothing left but the market. |
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