33. Bennett
THIRTY-THREE
BENNETT
I’ve thankfully been pretty busy in the week since Marley left. Karl had me over helping with some fence repairs, which always turns into a dinner invitation. I knew exactly what he and Nancy were doing, but I let them think I wasn’t in on their scheme. The Dalmatian puppies have taken up a lot of my time, and they are endlessly entertaining. The cluster headaches I’ve been getting, however, are far less entertaining. My neurologist wants me back in for another scan next week, but I haven’t committed to one. When I told her that it was probably because of the extra work, she suggested I may want to hire some help, and it took me right back to that last conversation with Marley. But admitting that I need help is admitting defeat, and frankly I’m sick of feeling like I can’t live up to even my most basic expectations.
Sophie’s job ad brought in a lot of applicants, and I’ve scheduled interviews with a few who seemed like a good fit. I’m trying to view this as a new experience that will only make what I do better. With help I could offer more; hell, I may even be able to focus on building awareness about the rescue. One of the applicants has a degree in communications, and Sophie said she’s really good at social media, whatever that means.
I’m sitting at the island still stirring my coffee, going over my interview notes, when my door bangs open and Karl walks in carrying a fucking calf. If there is one thing that’s going to snap you out of a stupor, it’s seeing your neighbor walk right into your kitchen carrying a baby cow.
“Karl,” I say, sitting up straight and blinking at the man. “Why is there a cow in my kitchen?”
“Mom had twins and didn’t want this guy.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Karl, but that doesn’t answer the question as to why it’s in my kitchen, which is in my house… which is typically not where one would find a cow.”
“Don’t worry about the whys, Bennett. Just know that this guy is going to make an excellent addition to your pack.”
“I’m sorry, did you just say my pack? A pack is made up of dogs, Karl. That’s a cow.”
Karl looks down at the calf. “Yes, I thought we had established that this is a cow. Keep up.”
“Keep up? I don’t think we’re even running the same route.”
Karl sets down the calf, who immediately curls up on the floor. It’s actually kind of cute, but I’m not about to acknowledge that.
“Listen, I’ve got a bunch of babies right now, and I don’t have enough time to deal with a calf no mamma wants. So either you take him, I find a rescue, or we let nature take its course.”
Fucking hell, he knows I’m not going to let that last one happen. “What am I supposed to do with a calf?”
“Well, at this stage, he won’t be much more work than those puppies you’ve got. And hey, he matches them. Maybe they’ll adopt him into the family. Think of it as a challenge—we all know how you like a challenge. Anyway, I’ve gotta get back, or Nancy is going to tan my hide.” He waves and walks out. I jump up, nearly trip over the calf and follow him out onto the porch. “Actually, there’s more.”
“If it’s more livestock, I’m going to have to decline,” I say, defeated.
“No, just some stuff for the little guy. Some bottles of milk and a blanket. Nancy probably already sent an email with all the relevant information for keeping this guy fed and happy.” He comes back from the truck with a large bag and hands it to me. “Don’t think too much about it, Bennett. And give him a name.”
I watch him drive away before the chill of winter chases me back into the house where there is still a baby cow curled up in my kitchen.
I slide down the front of my cabinets and sigh. “What the hell just happened?” I say to the calf, who blinks at me with his gigantic cow eyes. I have to admit the addition of a black-and-white cow around the same time I’ve taken in Dalmatian puppies does seem kind of perfect. But still, what am I going to do with a cow?
I grab my phone from the counter and open my email to find that Nancy had indeed emailed me a list of instructions. Keeping him warm and well-fed seems to be the most important thing. So basically the same as the puppies. She also lets me know that this is temporary but doesn’t say for how long. But I do feel a sense of relief knowing I likely won’t have to figure out how to care for a full-grown bull.
I put my phone down and slide closer to the little guy to run my hands down his neck. Eventually, I move him in between my legs so he’s resting his head on my thigh. So far he’s just like a dog, just a bit bonier and definitely smellier. Despite the overwhelming dread I’m feeling about keeping this guy alive, my mind starts brainstorming ways to train him like a dog. Do cows do tricks? Will they come when you call? I grab my phone again and start to Google. And holy shit, there’s an entire website dedicated to training cows just like dogs. It may not be the kind of wave I was expecting, but it is a wave, and at this point I’ll fucking take it.