Yesterday was a little bit tough for me. All of the beef was ready at the butcher. You know, the beef that used to be Elly. I called to see what she dressed out at and how much it was, to estimate the number of freezers to bring. It was 680 pounds, so four coolers it was. I moved all of the frozen meat from their boxes (that they charged me for, grr) to the coolers to bring it home in the heat. They helped me load it into the truck, and one of the guys slammed the tailgate.
When I got home, I was backing up to our deck to unload, and noticed that my tailgate was down. Odd. Then I noticed that one of the ice chests was missing. EEEP! Oh, crap. It must have fallen out somewhere. The road to our place is dirt and hilly and bumpy, so I assumed it was somewhere there. We backtracked. Slowly, carefully, all the fricking way back to the butcher in Westminster. I was feeling too stupid to ask them if anyone had called them, so Frank went in and did it for me. (Thanks, honey.) But they hadn’t heard a thing. Neither have local police or the Staties.
It was from the driver’s side of the truck, so it must have fallen splat in the middle of the road and made a huge mess. Route 123 is a really quiet state highway. I can drive for 20 minutes and not see a soul, and often let the dogs in the back of the truck, because it’s a windy twisty drive that I take pretty slow, and I never see a cop.
Disa wanted to do just that, and I remember looking in the back of the truck about halfway home and deciding there wasn’t enough room for her to be in back safely. She would have loved riding along on top of those chests. She’s a climber that I never ever indulge when the truck is moving. I think I was right about mid-way when I did that, so it happened within 10 miles of here.
I feel so stupid, but it’s also crazy how thoroughly it has disappeared. We looked for it so carefully. I’ve admitted to people I did it, because I wanted to find it, obviously.
I guess I figure the person who found it needs it more than I do. But you know what’s really weird? I don’t want someone to eat Elly who I can’t tell about her. The very thought keeps making me break into tears. She’s not anonymous, damn it.
I think the same thing when I think of it having fallen into a ditch somewhere and will be completely wasted and forgotten. She deserves better. Damn it.
Actually, so does the farm. That was $750 worth of grass-fed heritage breed beef. That would pay for all the hay Danny will ever eat. If the farm doesn’t pay, we can’t do it.
She was as humanely slaughtered as I could make it. She was in the plant no more than 10 minutes, and I know she went out looking around the corner to find the boy. He was in there somewhere!
We had burgers on the grill last night. Frank bought my favorite bottle of wine to serve with it, guaranteed to make me feel better, and it did. But I still keep thinking about it, and it still keeps making me cry.
I miss my crazy cow. All I wanted to do on the day I took the video below was to watch Barack Obama inaugurated. Elly had other plans.
A lot. A whole, whole lot.
