Frank

Frank was a frustrated guy.

I guess you couldn’t really call him a “guy”, since Frank was a bull. And his name’s not really “Frank”, well, because bulls don’t have human names. At least not ones they give themselves.

There was one thing that frustrated Frank the most: not being able to see the color red. He didn’t really think of it as red, the way you or I would, he just saw it as a disability, something he couldn’t perceive. Frank didn’t like not being able to perceive things, you see. That’s because Frank could usually perceive a lot of things. For example, he could sense when his human caretakers were angry or happy or sad. Frank was a sensitive guy. I mean bull.

Frank loved Pedro the most. He loved him because Pedro was like Frank. Pedro was a sensitive guy. I mean kid, because children can’t be “guys”. Or at least I don’t think they can… but that’s a topic for a completely different story.

For example, Pedro could sense when the animals were happy or sad or frustrated, especially Frank. And Frank could tell that Pedro was different than the other humans on the farm. Pedro seemed to be much clumsier than his dad. Pedro had trouble navigating the simplest of terrain, often tripping over small rocks that the rest of the humans would easily maneuver over. Pedro’s dad would always lovingly help him up and dust off his clothes, giving him a big hug before sending him on his way. Pedro’s eyes were also different. They were white and cloudy and lacked those little round orbs of color like his dad’s. Frank actually had excellent eyesight, except for that pesky, anger-inducing color that he just couldn’t perceive. Perception was everything to Frank.

Frank loved the way Pedro would stand by his side, stroking his coarse black fur as his dad held out that flag that was the color that made him feel frustrated. Frank wished he could help Pedro the way Pedro helped him. He wished he could comfort him when his dad made those loud, agitated grunting sounds—the sounds he’d make when he saw Pedro calming Frank down, after Frank saw the flag with that color that Frank couldn’t see. I guess his dad preferred it when Frank was frustrated.

Frank didn’t much care for the other animals, or maybe it was that the other animals didn’t much care for Frank. They all seemed scared of him. This made Frank sad. He actually enjoyed the company of other animals, especially the bulls. Frank was, in fact, a very social guy. I mean bull. It’s just that Frank was born bigger than the rest of the herd, and he had that pesky anger issue. But not for them and not for Pedro and not for Pedro’s dad, only for that color that he just couldn’t see.

As the narrator of this story, I can assure you Frank wasn’t scary, he was just misunderstood. I guess life’s lonelier when you’re misunderstood. But at least he had Pedro. Pedro wasn’t scared of Frank: he understood him.

***

Frank shot straight up in his pen upon hearing a faint rustling sound from the other side of the still, moonlit barn. He was a light sleeper.

The sounds became louder, and the other animals began to stir. He nervously paced back and forth, stopping to peer through the gaps in the wide wooden slats of his enclosure. He felt his heart racing and his breath quicken as it moistened his big, spongy nose. Frank was a nervous guy. I mean bull.

The hinged gate flung open, and Pedro’s dad entered with a determined look on his face. Frank knew this couldn’t be good. He grabbed the thick steel ring dangling from Frank’s nose and yanked aggressively. Frank leaned backwards hard, with all of his weight, his heels digging deeply into the firm ground below as he felt a constant sharp pinch in his nose. They stood in defiance of each other.

Just then, the sound of pitter-pattering feet crunching in the hay echoed throughout the barn, quickly followed by a sudden thud. Pedro’s dad ran out of the pen to inspect the situation. Pedro then rushed into Frank’s pen, stumbling as he extended his hands in front of his face, occasionally bracing himself against the walls. His dad followed closely behind him, out of breath as he struggled to keep up.

Pedro opened his arms wide, wrapping them tightly around the wide girth of Frank’s muscular neck. Frank heard a series of sniffling and shouting sounds as the two exchanged words. None of which Frank could understand, because Frank was a bull. But he knew happy sounds, and these were not those.

After a few minutes the sounds stopped. The three stood at opposite corners of the pen, assessing each other. Frank wished he could hug Pedro, but Frank was a bull. Pedro’s dad walked over to Pedro, extending his hand and wiping the moisture from his face.

Frank couldn’t fully understand what had just transpired because he did not understand human language, of course. But he did know they now seemed content. Frank was a perceptive guy. I mean bull.

***