Memorable Dinner Moment

"The calf's loose!"

"The barbecue's tipping!"

"The lawn's on fire!"

This truly memorable dinner moment started out innocently enough.  The whole family had assembled at my grandparents' farm for a weekend barbecue.  The big back lawn was surrounded by bright blooming flower gardens and over-abundant vegetable gardens.  The old black walnut tree was home to a tire swing and songbirds.  The north end of the yard was flanked by climb-able cottonwood trees and a wade-able irrigation ditch.  During the summer, we grandkids practically lived in their backyard.

Calving season was over and there were lots of new babies in Grandpa's dairy herd -- except for one.  His mama had refused him, so Grandpa was bottle-feeding him.  He had that rowdy little calf penned up where the back yard met the barn yard.  Any activity in either yard prompted his mooing for a meal.  With all the flurry of getting the family meal underway the calf must have thought it was time for his meal too, even though he had just been fed.

Somehow, that hungry and determined little calf got out of his pen, spied Grandpa and took off towards him as fast as those wobbly calf knees could go.  He ran, ducking and dodging through the family, around the tables, and straight on through the flaming barbecue.  It was like slow-motion watching the kettle tip over and all those fiery briquettes tumble onto the grass.

Whoosh -- the fire raced across the lawn.  Dad and Grandpa ran after the now terrified calf.  Mom and Grandma ran for the garden hoses.  We kids just ran around.

The calf was caught, penned and fed.  The fire was put out and the lawn declared a sopping sooty mess.  Miraculously, the tables full of food were spared so we all got fed, too.

Sparky, as the calf became known, lived a long and happy life on the farm.  But Grandpa always put him securely in the barn whenever Grandma wanted to barbecue.