I still remember that moment when I first met him. It was early summer and I had spent the warm day in my Grandparent's front yard. There was a general sense of anxiety, waiting and waiting for my grandfather to come home. He hadn't taken his rattley old truck; instead the neighbor's truck which was much larger and nicer. My grandmother told me he was going to get me a present and had to drive all the way to Northern Oregon to get it. I was excited, so when I saw the truck pull off the highway and down the long winding driveway that led to the house, I ran to greet him. It took longer than normal, and as soon as he pulled in I saw why.
My grandfather killed the engine, opened the door, and smiled at me. "What do you think Rachey?" I stood yards back, but I already knew I loved him. I stepped up to the bed of the truck and stood and my tippy toes to admire my new pet. The large animal loomed out of the back of the vehicle. He let out a bawl; his red and white fur stretched and srunched over his massive body. "A cow..." I thought, "and he is all mine."
I smiled as my mother and grandmother came out of the house. It appeared to me that they admired my cow just as much as I had. The large calf let out another bawl and everyone laughed. My grandfather started to unload the animal and I noticed it had defecated all over the bed of the truck. "Poopla." I said aloud to my family. "His name is Poopla" It was the perfect name for a cow of that nature. Fitting, yet still beautiful in my four year old mind.
Poopla was my cow. They had given him to me and let me name him. My mother drove my baby sister and me to the farm, I helped my grandfather feed him. I spent the majority of my summer with Poopla, and he was my first summer love. I would go for rides on the ATV out deep into the pastures. Papa and I would always find him with the other cows, sometimes up by the house but more often hidden in the cottonwood trees that grew thick down by the river. Poopla grew immensly in just a few short months. He really seemed to like living there, even though he didn't look like the other cows. They were solid red or black, not spotted like he was. Poopla was accepted into the herd though.
I did worry on occasion for my cow. The pastures were huge and went on for acres. He could get lost or worse, fall into the river! I expressed my worries to my mother, insisting that Poopla should move to town with us and live in our backyard. "Rachel, Poopla is happier here with the other cows. And besides, cows can swim." I knew she was right. Poopla would be fine there.
Everything was going well. Summer was ending and there was a slight chill in the country air. The leaves on the maple tree had started to turn brilliant colors, and I sat dangling on my swing that hung from the thick lower branch. My grandmother stepped out of her house with my lunch on a paper plate. Half of a ham and margerine sandwich designed to cushion the blow. "I hate to say this honey, but Papa went out to feed your cow this morning and he wasn't there. We think Poopla ran away." As I silently started to cry, Grandma tried to console me. "Maybe Papa will take you into the pasture to look for him..."
That night I bundled up and wedged myself between my grandparents in their old diesel truck. The musty scent of the cab mixed with the smell from the fuel reminded me of the task at hand. Find Poopla. My one pet. How could I let him go missing? Is he still alive? We drove out into the pasture. The dusky sky had prompted me to grab the flashlight. Its large metal barrel became my weapon. My strategy was simple: shine the light one the shadowy clumps of cows the were spread across the pasture. Poopla would be easy to spot. I knew his markings like the back of my hand.
Papa drove the truck out and up to the first cluster of cattle. I took the flashlight and shone it out the open window. The first cow was solid red. No white spots. The second and third cow were black; alas my Poopla was no where to be found. We drove on. Group after group, cow after cow. I had just about given up when my Grandmother said, "Rachel look! Is that him?" With restored hope, we pulled up and I pointed the flashlight in the corner of the pasture. I saw the shadow of one lone cow, and held the light up to it's massive head. I started to cry again. "Thats not him." I said between tears. My grandfather spoke up, "Maybe if he ran away, he'll come back..."
I dont remember much else from that time in my life. I remember my mother running lots of errands to strange places. We were planning to move to California that winter. My father had moved months ago to get the house ready and start his new job. We spent alot of time at Grandma's, while my mother packed up all our belongings. That autumn I remember playing in the leaves with Hannah, missing Poopla, and cooking with my Grandmother. Lots of meat loaf, casseroles, lasagnes, home made hamburgers, with all that food it made it easier to look forward to moving. I spent less and less time hoping Poopla would ever come back and more time on things that mattered.
It was years after we moved when I finally figured out the truth. I was reminiscing with my parents about past pets when I brought up my favorite and most missed animal. "Hey whatever happened to Poopla? Remember, that cow you guys gave me? Did he ever come back?" I noticed as they briefly exchanged glances before my mother broke the news. "Rachel, we bought that cow so we could butcher it. After you decided to name it, we couldn't tell you that we had it killed, we had to say it ran away!" She pursed her lips to hold her repressed laughter. I couldn't believe it. "You mean I ate Poopla?!?" "...and you love it," she finished. She started to giggle and my father joined her in laughter. After a few seconds, I laughed too. After so many years, the sorrow had worn off and turned into disbelief. After so many years, how could I have not realized it? A cow suddenly goes missing then suddenly a fresh stock of beef can be found in the freezer?
To this day, the life and times of Poopla still haunts me even more so than the massive lie my parents and grandparents told me.
My grandfather killed the engine, opened the door, and smiled at me. "What do you think Rachey?" I stood yards back, but I already knew I loved him. I stepped up to the bed of the truck and stood and my tippy toes to admire my new pet. The large animal loomed out of the back of the vehicle. He let out a bawl; his red and white fur stretched and srunched over his massive body. "A cow..." I thought, "and he is all mine."
I smiled as my mother and grandmother came out of the house. It appeared to me that they admired my cow just as much as I had. The large calf let out another bawl and everyone laughed. My grandfather started to unload the animal and I noticed it had defecated all over the bed of the truck. "Poopla." I said aloud to my family. "His name is Poopla" It was the perfect name for a cow of that nature. Fitting, yet still beautiful in my four year old mind.
Poopla was my cow. They had given him to me and let me name him. My mother drove my baby sister and me to the farm, I helped my grandfather feed him. I spent the majority of my summer with Poopla, and he was my first summer love. I would go for rides on the ATV out deep into the pastures. Papa and I would always find him with the other cows, sometimes up by the house but more often hidden in the cottonwood trees that grew thick down by the river. Poopla grew immensly in just a few short months. He really seemed to like living there, even though he didn't look like the other cows. They were solid red or black, not spotted like he was. Poopla was accepted into the herd though.
I did worry on occasion for my cow. The pastures were huge and went on for acres. He could get lost or worse, fall into the river! I expressed my worries to my mother, insisting that Poopla should move to town with us and live in our backyard. "Rachel, Poopla is happier here with the other cows. And besides, cows can swim." I knew she was right. Poopla would be fine there.
Everything was going well. Summer was ending and there was a slight chill in the country air. The leaves on the maple tree had started to turn brilliant colors, and I sat dangling on my swing that hung from the thick lower branch. My grandmother stepped out of her house with my lunch on a paper plate. Half of a ham and margerine sandwich designed to cushion the blow. "I hate to say this honey, but Papa went out to feed your cow this morning and he wasn't there. We think Poopla ran away." As I silently started to cry, Grandma tried to console me. "Maybe Papa will take you into the pasture to look for him..."
That night I bundled up and wedged myself between my grandparents in their old diesel truck. The musty scent of the cab mixed with the smell from the fuel reminded me of the task at hand. Find Poopla. My one pet. How could I let him go missing? Is he still alive? We drove out into the pasture. The dusky sky had prompted me to grab the flashlight. Its large metal barrel became my weapon. My strategy was simple: shine the light one the shadowy clumps of cows the were spread across the pasture. Poopla would be easy to spot. I knew his markings like the back of my hand.
Papa drove the truck out and up to the first cluster of cattle. I took the flashlight and shone it out the open window. The first cow was solid red. No white spots. The second and third cow were black; alas my Poopla was no where to be found. We drove on. Group after group, cow after cow. I had just about given up when my Grandmother said, "Rachel look! Is that him?" With restored hope, we pulled up and I pointed the flashlight in the corner of the pasture. I saw the shadow of one lone cow, and held the light up to it's massive head. I started to cry again. "Thats not him." I said between tears. My grandfather spoke up, "Maybe if he ran away, he'll come back..."
I dont remember much else from that time in my life. I remember my mother running lots of errands to strange places. We were planning to move to California that winter. My father had moved months ago to get the house ready and start his new job. We spent alot of time at Grandma's, while my mother packed up all our belongings. That autumn I remember playing in the leaves with Hannah, missing Poopla, and cooking with my Grandmother. Lots of meat loaf, casseroles, lasagnes, home made hamburgers, with all that food it made it easier to look forward to moving. I spent less and less time hoping Poopla would ever come back and more time on things that mattered.
It was years after we moved when I finally figured out the truth. I was reminiscing with my parents about past pets when I brought up my favorite and most missed animal. "Hey whatever happened to Poopla? Remember, that cow you guys gave me? Did he ever come back?" I noticed as they briefly exchanged glances before my mother broke the news. "Rachel, we bought that cow so we could butcher it. After you decided to name it, we couldn't tell you that we had it killed, we had to say it ran away!" She pursed her lips to hold her repressed laughter. I couldn't believe it. "You mean I ate Poopla?!?" "...and you love it," she finished. She started to giggle and my father joined her in laughter. After a few seconds, I laughed too. After so many years, the sorrow had worn off and turned into disbelief. After so many years, how could I have not realized it? A cow suddenly goes missing then suddenly a fresh stock of beef can be found in the freezer?
To this day, the life and times of Poopla still haunts me even more so than the massive lie my parents and grandparents told me.
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