HUFFed

I couldn't stop staring at him. He stood there huffin' and puffin'. Every few moments, he would spin and buck. Spin and buck. Just like he would at home.

Home was as special as the farm. We owned acres of farm life with animals as far as the eye could see. My great, great grandfather handed down the farm. The odd generational family tree kept true to its heritage. Every male never married and there was one male for all the countless girls born to the family. The males kept the farm and women owned rights to the village built for all the family members. Everyone in the family earned a profit from the farm. There were some family that even kept some of the farm animals as pets. The one constant of the farm animals were the bulls. We bred them for bull riding and breeding cows keeping the livestock family name. We were known for the best well-kept farm in the county receiving visitors all over the world for our livestock and especially our bulls. There was one odd rule sparked by a family story passed from the generations told by a family adage: The greatest male will never be the same once a male of the family marries. The girls thought this was the most comical idea, but up to this point was never challenged.

I didn't understand the whole get-up until Huff came to be. Huff was the smallest, most adventurous bull anyone has ever witnessed. He was an odd bull, being born way above average size and weight shrinking in stature as he aged into a mature bull. There wasn't a farmer or veterinarian that could explain this phenomenon. To top it off, he loved competition. He slept on road trips to the bullring and never had to be cattle prodded for inspiration inside the bucking shoot. He was the fastest bull in the world breaking records against riders never mounting him for eight seconds. The longest ride by the most successful rider in the world was six seconds breaking the nerve of the cowboy into retirement. The cowboy visited Huff letting him place a metal for the most auspicious bull in the land. Huff never allowed anyone to remove his medal.

One day at one of his rodeos, I saw something more stunning than seen at any bull riding competition. Tall, athletic, charming and a kindness about her only those looking were able to see. She had it all. If I had the rights and didn't love the animals or family benefits, I would bet the farm for an eight second date. Well, something awful, great happened to me. Huff won like usual and I shortly after had married this beautiful woman.

Everyone was laughing the following weeks receiving countless bids on the farm. There were some outrageous offers, but we never settled. The farm prospered more than ever. The bulls and cows were in great shape, but something was wrong with Huff. He wouldn't eat and shockingly, he resisted with every core of his body against competing. I remember during my wedding ceremony watching him from the backyard overlooking his pen. He wouldn't stop staring. I remembered the grown after kissing my wife for the first time. Everyone laughed and I giggled but didn't enjoy the irony. Huff got his name because he never made any noise. He was unique for sure. He was silent in everything. Cowboys thought this was the most disturbing part about Huff. I loved this bull. I did everything to find out what was wrong with him. I even read the family farm journals tucked away in the family library. There was one page in the back of the book written by my great, great grandfather. He talked about his dad owing an auspicious bull named Huff, who wouldn't eat nor compete and to save his life had to be released from the farm. Well, I'm just glad the suggestion wasn't to have him put down but to displace him without a new owner didn't sit right with me. And yes. I didn't miss the part that the name of the bull was Huff. I spent weeks with no avail asking family about this bull sharing the same name as my bull. Local historians and the grit of it all, even generational cowboys didn't know nothin about bull in the past known as Huff. I was beside myself. I'm just glad there wasn't a portrait because I would have lost it if this bull looked anything like Huff.

One night, I went out to see him. We spent the entire day together. I didn't even consult with family. The next morning, I opened his pen built just for him. He sprang up in an instant and ran for his life. I hopped in my truck following him to the edge of the property line. He stopped once and spun around in my direction. He huffed a loud grunt-The loudest grunt I ever herd. For some God awful reason, I knew the next step. I began to yell. 1...2...3..4... I made it to 8 barely holdin' it together. The darn bull. Huff…He bowed his head with one hoof raised, spun full circle in a wild motion and stared. He did this eight times. Eight gosh darn times. He stared at me for the last time huffed and puffed and ran out of sight. I felt a tear run down my face. Huff on his own, I never heard any commotion from anyone anywhere. He remained the most auspicious bull in history. Statues were held throughout our farm and at stadiums across the world. Huff remained the greatest story in our family. Life is great on the farm. I have a happy marriage. The farm is better than ever but there is no bull like Huff, nor ever would there be out of the generations.