The bull slowly lifted his head, let out a tired sigh, looked the neighbor straight in the eyes, and said, “Buddy… I’m trying not to make eye contact with anyone.”
The neighbor blinked in disbelief.
“What?”
“If I stand up,” the bull groaned, “someone’s going to think I’m ready for another appointment.”
The neighbor burst out laughing so hard he nearly fell over the fence.
“You mean the farmer wasn’t exaggerating?”
“Oh, he wasn’t exaggerating,” the bull replied. “If anything, he left out the worst part.”
“The worst part?”
The bull nodded wearily.
“Monday was six farms. Tuesday was seven. Yesterday they brought me to a county fair because someone heard I was ‘the miracle bull.’ I haven’t had a proper nap in weeks.”
Just then, the farmer walked into the pasture with a rope in one hand and a clipboard in the other.
“There you are, champ!” he called cheerfully. “Time for the Johnson farm. They’ve got twelve cows waiting.”
The bull slowly closed his eyes.
“I think I’m suddenly invisible.”
The farmer tugged gently on the rope.
“Come on, buddy. One more trip.”
The bull didn’t move.
The farmer pulled harder.
Still nothing.
Finally, the bull opened one eye and muttered, “Tell them I’m retired.”
The farmer laughed.
“Retired? You’re only five years old!”
“I may be five,” the bull replied, “but I feel ninety-five.”
The neighbor couldn’t stop chuckling.
“I’ve never seen a bull this exhausted.”
“You wouldn’t be either,” the bull answered. “Everywhere I go, people stare at me like I’m some kind of celebrity. No one asks how I’m doing.”
For the first time, the farmer paused.
He looked at the tired animal lying in the grass, his sides rising and falling with every slow breath.
“You know…” the farmer admitted, scratching his head, “I guess I have been working you pretty hard.”
The bull didn’t answer.
He had already fallen asleep.
The farmer smiled.
“All right, old friend. The Johnsons can wait.”
He picked up his phone and began making calls.
“Sorry, folks,” he said. “Appointments are canceled for today. My star employee is taking a well-earned vacation.”
The news spread across the county in no time.
Some farmers grumbled.
Others laughed.
One even joked, “The hardest-working bull in the county finally joined the union!”
For the next week, the famous bull did absolutely nothing.
He napped beneath the biggest oak tree.
He wandered through the pasture whenever he felt like it.
He rolled in the mud.
He watched butterflies drift across the field.
Most importantly, nobody bothered him.
A week later, he stood up on his own, stretched, and let out the loudest, happiest moo anyone had ever heard.
The neighbor smiled.
“Feeling better?”
The bull grinned.
“Much better.”
The farmer walked over.
“Ready to get back to work?”
The bull looked at him seriously.
“Only if we agree on one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“One day off every week.”
The farmer laughed.
“Deal.”
From then on, the famous bull was still the most sought-after in the county—but he also became the happiest.
And whenever anyone asked why his bull always seemed so energetic, the farmer simply smiled and said,
“Even legends need a day off.”
