SEE YA RUSTY

SEE YA RUSTY

King Jupiter is not there now, he was replaced by a younger bull who was supposed to improve our chances of being better farmers and producing more milk. But I miss him.

When I was a lot younger we often ran through the corner of his paddock daring each other to get closer to him. A big red and white Ayreshire that looked at us lazily out of the corner of one eye. But he was probably too interested in the lush grass, a cud always in his mouth, to pay us any attention. Or so I always thought.

We were young and stupid then not really appreciating the danger we were putting ourselves in. Not understanding that although King Jupiter, what a silly name for a bull, appeared to be overweight and slow he was really a killing machine waiting to strike. That's what everyone said.

He was already in the paddock when I was born at the farm, so in a way I grew up around him. He was never too friendly though and kept to himself although I'd seen him bellow loudly at strangers who came to the railings, to the fence of his paddock just to look at him.

When I was old enough to understand what people were saying I'd often hear things like "God look at the size of that brute, would you?" They'd often utter other similar words of surprise. Sometimes they'd swear and say they'd never seen anything like it. He'd stroll over towards them nostrils flaring, his foot pawing the ground and they'd back away from the fence and walk hurriedly away mumbling. I always thought King Jupiter wore a smile then, he certainly appeared to.

The first time I ran through his paddock I was on my own. I'd really only just learnt to run. Before that it had been unsteady walking, but gradually over time I gained more confidence and suddenly one day there I was running. It was the greatest feeling. There was no one looking after me, no one watching and when I'd come to King Jupiter's fence I'd slid under it. I didn't have any idea of where I was going. I paused in the middle of the paddock. "Jupy" as I always called him was way down the far end, his back to me. I doubt he even knew I was there.

That's how the game started, thrilling myself and seeing how close I could get to him before he noticed. But even when he did he regarded me with barely a ripple of concern. I certainly was no threat to him and I wasn't going to steal any of the cows that were sometimes in the paddock with him. In fact when the cows were in the paddock I learnt to stay away. They would twist and turn in confusion and I'd get into all sorts of trouble when I got home.

I had an older brother and sister, not so much older though, still young and full of fun and it would be fair to say we got up to a lot of mischief. The best of which was racing up and over the bales in the hay shed or as I've mentioned daring each other to get closer to Jupy to see if he'd try and chase us. We were never sure what would be worse, getting caught by Jupy or our parents who would lecture us and tell us we needed to grow up. I'm not sure how many times I heard that lecture!

When no one was looking we would sneak into his paddock, making sure he didn't see us and creep slowly up on him until he lifted his head from chewing and gave us that look. We'd hunch over half in fear and prepare ourselves for flight, for a run to the fence being chased by a mad bull, but it never happened. I'd heard of others being caught by a bull who had tossed them over a fence or bunted and butted them until they howled in pain.

But Jupy never caught us, couldn't even be bothered taking a step towards us. We had to keep quiet though when we did this otherwise someone would hear us laughing and talking and come running.

"Get the hell out of the bull paddock, you idiots."

I suppose we tired of the game, grew up a little like our parents suggested, but it is still the best memory I have of those times. I remember too the day that King Jupiter left. Some men arrived with a truck to take him away. No one said where he was going, most of the conversation was about the new bull who arrived at the same time to take his place. Another red and white monster by the name of Oblique Cromwell. I was going to call him Obi.

But it was King Jupiter, Jupy, who I was interested in. I looked at him as he was led up the steep loading ramp at the back of the truck. He looked down and saw me, it was probably the closest I had ever been to him.

"See ya Rusty." He said with a big grin on his face, though there was a trace of sadness in his voice.

I would never see him again and gave a couple of barks of farewell. Of course no one knew what we were saying and they never will.

- The above is an excerpt from Rusty the dog's unpublished novel The Bulls and Me.