The Bull Who Saved My Social Life

My life ended on a Tuesday at 3:47 PM. That's when my iPhone slipped from my sweaty grip during cross country practice and did a perfect swan dive into Old Man Miller's cow trough.

I'd been running the rural route—the one Coach said would "build character"—when it happened. I'd been mid-text to crush-of-my-life Jordan, finally about to send the risky meme that would definitely make him laugh or definitely make me die of secondhand embarrassment.

Now my phone was sinking into murky water, and I was panicking. My entire life was on that iPhone. My tickets to next week's festival. My playlist. My dignity.

I scrambled down the grassy slope, prepared to arm-reach into the nastiest water of my life, when a shadow fell over me.

I looked up. And up. And up.

A massive bull stood there, staring at me with giant soulful eyes. He snorted.

I froze. This was it. This was how I died. Trampled by a cow while trying to save my social life.

"Hey big guy," I whispered, backing away slowly. "Just passing through. Nothing to see here."

The bull took a step toward me. Then another. I braced myself to run, to sprint away from certain doom.

But he didn't charge. Instead, he lowered his massive head and nudged my phone—which had floated to the edge of the trough—onto dry ground with his wet snout.

"No freaking way," I breathed.

He looked at me like, You're welcome, weird human child.

I grabbed my phone. It was glitching but still worked. The bull watched me climb back up the hill, then returned to whatever important cow business bulls do.

I made it to practice with thirty seconds to spare, heart pounding, smelling like trough water, clutching my barely-functional iPhone. Jordan never responded to that meme. But honestly? That was fine.

Some stories are better left untold.

Though I did visit my bull friend after practice with some apples from the cafeteria. We're cool now.