Rainy days make me melancholy, make me lazy. I usually try to find this or that excuse not to leave the barn in the morning with the rest of the herd. (I’m not fond of spending an entire day being steadily rained on or stepping into one muddy spot after another.) Unlike the others, who never fail to follow Her Highness (Elsie) wherever the fool choose to go, I am independent. I go MY way. I toot my own horn. I relish having those rare few moments completely alone to sort through my thoughts and feelings.

Okay…it’s been nearly an hour. My thoughts are boring. I’m no longer feeing melancholy and delighted to be alone. There is nothing exciting in this stupid barn. Nothing to intrigue me, nothing to challenge me. But it’s still raining outside. I detest rain.

Ferdinand loves the rain. He likes to stand proudly in the midst of a good shower, lift his mighty head, squeeze his deep brown eyes shut, and just let the water pour over him. He said he likes the feel of it, claims it refreshes him inside and out. I don’t totally understand that, but I have to admit he’s one mighty fine looking bull when he’s standing out in the rain doing his “refreshing” thing.

Now I’ll never be satisfied staying in here nice and dry, flat-out bored. I can almost smell the scent of Ferdinand’s wet-soaked hide. I can almost hear the pleasure in his low-voiced bellow while he stands there in the field. When he’s wet, every muscle of his finely developed body shows at its best. He even gets…well, feeling “frisky.” I’ve… No, you my readers don’t need to know the details.

Anyway, that’s it! I’m oughta here! Gotta man of my dreams to find. To heck with the rain. I’ll dry off.