Here is my funny story!
Hope you like it
When I was 10 I finally got my first calf. He was jet black so I called him Licorice. He was a feisty little thing who was always the first to finish drinking his milk. Licorice was a lot stronger than my brothers calf, Ginger. She was brown and petite and, compared to Licorice, very polite. My brother was 6 at the time.
It was a bad idea to get between Licorice and his food. I had once and it had had humiliating results. I accidentally stood in front of his milk and Licorice seemed to think that he couldn’t get past so he went right through my legs!
I was lifted up, facing the wrong way on his back. Neither of us were very pleased. My brother was laughing his head off. I never got in the way again after that.
My cousins were up to visit. Frank and Izzy lived in the city and were unaccustomed to country life. We wanted to show them our calves.
As soon as we entered the paddock laden with buckets of muesli they started complaining.
When we saw the calves they were even less impressed. Calves love to suck fingers, lick you and leave you covered in slobber. Thus Licorice’s nickname- Licky.
They didn’t want to go near the calves. Licky went straight to work devouring the muesli and Ginger ate, but not quite as enthusiastically . We put the buckets on either side of the water trough to avoid confusion. In no time at all Licky was finished, whereas Ginger had barely begun. Seeing this, Licky bolted past the water trough to her bucket and barged into her so he could eat.
On the way past he brushed past Frank, who was standing beside the trough. Frank attempted to step back, but he found he couldn’t and instead toppled into the water, which was dirty and slimy.
Frank was not happy at all when he rose to the top, soaked. He had scrapes on the back of his legs. My city cousin was bedraggled and wet and covered in slime and my calf was feasting on muesli.
At least someone got something good out of it in the end!