My cousin dm’d me a joke yesterday which was a video showing some farm kids waiting for their parents to leave the house so they could bring a calf right inside. He said “Carla’s house”.
When we were kids we raised “dollar” calves a few times. These were calves that for whatever reason, had no mothers. So we had to mix their milk from a powder called “Big Mama” and feed them twice a day until they were old enough to not require milk.
We were essentially their moms, my sister Gena and I.
The first time Dad brought home a dollar calf, Gena claimed it and I honestly wasn’t really interested. She named him Fudge.
Fudge was a real cutie pie and she spent so much time with him, he became like an actual pet. A second dog, if you will. He was so tame and domesticated he didn’t even need to be penned up. He would simply graze the front lawn and hangout all day near the house.
He didn’t try and run away or escape, despite not having a fence around him.
So this one time, our parents had gone to town, and we decided Fudge should be allowed in the house with us. Why not, right?
We thought it would be the funniest thing on earth to hangout inside the house with Fudge. A cow in the house.
And so we did and it lived up to it’s funniness. We couldn’t stop laughing. Fudge behaved very well.
bloom.planted.north 
Leave a comment