My Father, the bull.

I never really knew my father. I only met him once. He was the one who told me to run. I didn’t believe him to start with because it seemed so unbelievable that humans ate meat, ate us.

I thought he was a liar. I’m sorry that I thought that and that I ran away from him, very soon after he told me to run from the farm. That was the last time I saw him. All along he was telling me the truth. But I’m sure he understood that it would take a while for me to believe that he was telling the truth. It took a while for me to see what humans are really like.