When your were born, a tiny calf on a dairy farm, they didn't want you. You were too small, and of no use to anyone.
I took you. I hand fed you milk. I brought you warm bottles at first, and then pails, trudging up the snowy track in minus 20 degree weather, in snow, and sleet, every morning before work.
I cleaned out your stall. I turned you loose once the new grass of spring was here and made sure you had young shoots to whet your appetite.
Yes, I know I shot you with a stun gun too, but seriously, you wouldn't have wanted to go through that little operation awake.
For a year and a half now, I have had hay brought in in the winter, and allowed you to roam free through the pastures all summer, sheltering under the apple trees, playing with the other steers.
And this, this, is how you repay me. By leaping over the fence, churning up my gardens, eating my new flowers, and stomping on my freshly planted bulbs?
And then you tried to walk up the stone steps to the patio door! Did you really think I would let you in?
Really, Angus. This is too bad.
Be a good little steer and go back to the field now, will you.
And take those darn lambs with you!