"Hey, Buddy"

The first thing I noticed when I walked in was his eye, half closed like he was almost asleep. He was lying on his side.

"Oh, my little Bartimaeus," I whispered; and for the first time, he never got up and trundled over to me.

The Good Rancher had been concerned about Bart when he went to feed Aiyo his late night bottle last night. Bart seemed ... listless. His breathing was fine, not the normal snuffly sounds we had become accustomed to. But he didn't come over for his regular belly scratch, and that was not the affectionate little fellow we were used to.

We had found out about Bart's love for a good belly scratch when The Kid showed up back in the fall.

The Kid had just finished up a job and was at a bit of a loose end. He chatted with the Good Rancher and they came to an understanding that there was some fencing to be done and open living quarters. The Kid would be welcome for three months to get a feel for the operation of the ranch, learn how to fence, and help out where he could.

The first afternoon he was on the job, we took him out to meet the bottle calves: Bull, Boots, and Bart.

We told him each of the calves' stories, and The Kid listened attentively. Then he walked over to  Blind Bartimaeus. I gave him a brief orientation as to Bart's odd way of latching on to the milk bottle nipple, then handed him the bottle.

The Kid cradled Bart's head between his leg and outside arm, and got the bottle in the vicinity of Bart's mouth.

"Hey, Buddy," he said gently. 

And wouldn't you know it — Bart settled right down and took the bottle, slurping its contents down with alacrity.

"I could feed them every day," The Kid volunteered. And from the next morning on, he was at the door three minutes before starting time, waiting for the bottles. He carried right on when 88 and Hey 19 were added to the little herd of orphans. But the one he loved was Bart.

I told The Kid to talk to Bart as much as he could: because of Bart's limited blurry vision, he would follow a voice he could recognise. So The Kid spoke with him, scratched his ears, gently rubbed his bloaty little sides and cared for him as well as I ever could have. Even on his day off, The Kid still showed up to feed the babies so that Bart would have consistency and no break in his routine.

And as he was approaching him, he always greeted him with, "Hey, Buddy!" 

The Kid quickly proved himself adept at driving the bale truck, fencing, helping to sort cattle and work gates and run stock up the alley. He would give 100% to any task that was assigned to him. He listened carefully, made a deliberate effort to get to know and help the neighbours, and was willing to do whatever it took to help the Good Rancher. He was a pleasure to have around and soon enough he and the GR had the conversation about staying on after Christmas. 

For his birthday, The Kid was presented with a bill of sale: for the sum of One Dollar plus Other Valuable Considerations, the transfer of ownership of Blind Bartimaeus, aka Bart, to The Kid was effected. 

The Kid took stewardship of his property seriously. He would pop over to see Bart at lunch time, and kept the GR apprised as to any health concerns. They would treat Bart when he seemed to be slumping and the little guy would rebound and be more loving and happy than ever. 

Then when he was home for Christmas The Kid sustained a serious accident to his eye.

His good eye. 

And we found out he had been born with a weak eye that had caused him some difficulties at times through his life. A few sports injuries had provided various degrees of head trauma. 

No wonder he understood Bart so well!

We promised that if he would just take good care of himself, we would take care of Bart for him till he could return. 

Plunging temperatures right at the time of little Aiyo's unexpected birth caused the tips of Bart's ears to freeze. Negotiations between the GR and his naggy spouse resulted in the two little animals being tenderly settled in the shop where they were fed, sheltered, exercised, and taken for walks and pen time outside on good days (Aiyo spends a good portion of each day with his mummy, who adores him but doesn't have enough sustenance for him).

Bart settled right in. He loved his grain and fresh water in the shop, and the mineral tubs and hay - not to mention other animals - in the pen just across the yard. He would trot back and forth, Aiyo following him, almost every day.

https://youtu.be/yGwUtNn06UE

Until yesterday. It was too cold for Bart to go outside, so he had the run of the shop. He was fine in the early afternoon; but something had changed by that evening.

I was reflecting this afternoon on some of the gifts Bart gave me over the last nine months.

He taught me perseverance. How hard it was, those first days, to get him used to taking the milk bottle! He did not give up, however. He would take little breaks where he would run the length of the pen, stopping only when he would bump into the fencing. He learnt when to stop and turn before too long, and would always trot back to the sound of my voice, screeching to a halt right in front of the bottle. 

He was friendly to everyone who came to visit him. He judged no one on their varying skill levels with the milk bottle. He was grateful for what he received and patient when some members of Team Bart were not quite as competent as others. He did his best and assumed everyone else did the same. 

He was resilient. He was brave. He was picked on by a couple of the playground pals, but he did what Mr Rogers told kids to do when they found themselves in difficulties: look for the helpers. He knew who would give him cover, and he learnt how to avoid the others. 

He liked his food and he loved his water. He would lap at it for hours. The GR ensured that he had fresh water twice a day, but not too much that he would get waterlogged! 

He was peaceable and loving and he spent a good portion of each day walking around, whether inside the calving barn, in the pen or in the shop. 

And he would always make his way to the voices of the humans who loved him. 

The GR went to check on him at about 1:30 this morning and he seemed to have perked up again. But when the GR went to scratch his belly, Bart just stood there, accepting the attention but not wriggling with his customary delight. 

At first light the GR headed over to the shop. 

And my phone rang. 

"He's gone. Little Bart's gone." My big tough Rancher's voice cracked. 

I made my way to the bathroom and flipped the page of my Choice Gleanings calendar to today's date. I am one who believes that God cares about all the things that His children care about. Look at the reading for today:

I dressed and made my way over to the shop. I quietly let myself in and gazed at his still, prone body and thought about how happy he made me when I could watch him running freely and joyously in between swallows of formula; how in tough times I could just go to him and rest my head on his back and he would stand motionless as my tears fell on his silvery hide; how he would always come to me whenever he heard my voice; the wonderful evening I finally heard HIS voice. I thought of the many people who have taken an interest in him and have been rooting for him, our little calf who never grew much above 300 lbs. 

Through my tears I noticed something I had never seen before. 

Blind Bartimaeus's eyes had always been sort of cloudy, a bit unfocused. 

But as he lay there, his eye half opened was luminous, a deep brown, sparkling. Like he was looking at something we couldn't see. 

And right then and there, I knew that I would never wish him back. 

My Bart was free.

I slowly reached for my phone and dialled The Kid.