Like us, a lot of animals are susceptible to the dangers of cold weather.People going above and above to keep them warm is always heartening, as they are vulnerable to conditions like hypothermia and frostbite.
Similar to the farmer who improvised and saved the life of a freezing young cow by using an incredibly inventive and unexpected approach.
Dean Gangwer raises cattle on his property in Rossville, Indiana. On a frigid morning in 2015, Dean discovered a startling new addition to his property.
That one of his cows had given birth in the middle of the night was unknown to him. Unfortunately, she gave birth to her calf on top of a snowdrift, and now it was freezing.
The calf was breathing furiously, and Dean was fighting to keep his eyes open. He raced the cow to his house in an attempt to save it.
He knew enough about cattle to figure out that the calf needed a hot bath. And Dean happened to have his perfect cow-sized bath, a hot tub, ready to go!
Strange as it may sound, the tactic worked quite well.
I got in fully clothed, held Leroy up to keep him from drowning, and we had a great hour-long bath, Dean stated WRTV. “I think the ending is going to be fantastic for him, and we both came out warm.”
After that soothing jacuzzi session, the farmer wrapped his calf in warm, cozy blankets.
Leroy is the name of the calf. The cow’s body temperature eventually regulated, and he was ready to return to the herd.
The farmer adds that although sharing his hot tub with the cows was a quick and considerate decision that helped save the little cow, it won’t happen frequently.
“Leroy’s hot-tubbing is over,” he announced. “It’s clear that his days in the hot tub are over, but he might still occasionally sunbathe in the grass going forward.”
My Stepdaughter Insisted I Reassign All Her Deceased Father’s Possessions into Her Name – I Complied, Yet She Was Unpleased
The emptiness of George’s departure permeates their residence, his presence enduring in the shirt Mariana grips nightly. However, it wasn’t his passing that devastated her… it was her stepdaughter Susan’s insistence on inheriting his wealth. When she reluctantly agreed, an unexpected twist left Susan enraged and Mariana strangely content.
Progressing past the death of a dear one is always challenging. At times, I still sense my husband George’s voice echoing in my mind. I awaken holding his cherished shirt, his fragrance still clinging to the material. Yet, as I mourned him, my stepdaughter’s actions… they utterly broke me…
I am Mariana, aged 57, wed to the kindest man, George, for 25 years. He had a daughter, Susan, aged 34, from an earlier marriage.
Our bond with Susan was once good. She addressed me as “Mom” and filled the gap in my heart from not bearing my own children. I never viewed her as “another’s” child. I cherished her as my own daughter, truly.
When Susan wed her chosen partner, George and I were thrilled. But then, everything deteriorated when George received a terminal cancer diagnosis.
Susan’s visits reduced from weekly to monthly, then ceased entirely. She seldom visited her father, occasionally phoning to inquire about his health.
One day, she posed a question that tore me apart. “How long does he have left?”
Clutching the phone tightly, my voice shook. “Susan, your father isn’t an item with an expiration date.”
“I just need to know, Mom. I’m swamped, you know that… I can’t come by often,” she responded.
“Swamped?” I repeated, my tone filled with disbelief. “Too swamped to visit your dying father?”
She exhaled deeply. “Look, I’ll attempt to come soon, okay?”
But that “soon” never materialized.
Then, the dreaded day arrived. The hospital informed me that George had passed away peacefully.
I was devastated, barely able to stand as the reality sank in. My beloved George, gone.
Shockingly, Susan didn’t attend his funeral. When I called her, she promptly excused herself.
“I’m expecting, Mom,” she stated, her tone strangely indifferent. “The doctors advised against lengthy travel due to some medical concerns.”
I swallowed hard, holding back tears. “But Susan, it’s your father’s funeral. Don’t you wish to bid him farewell one last time?”
“I can’t jeopardize my baby’s health,” she curtly replied. “You understand, right?”
I didn’t, not truly, but I nodded silently, forgetting she couldn’t see me. “Of course, dear. Take care.”
As I sat near my husband’s coffin, I couldn’t dismiss the notion that our relationship had irrevocably changed.
Six months post-George’s death, I was startled by a loud knock at my door. Opening it, I saw Susan and her husband Doug, along with a severe-looking man in a suit.
Susan entered without greeting. “Mom, we need your signature on some documents.”
Baffled, I blinked. “Which documents?”
Doug handed me a stack of papers, including a blank sheet. “Just sign these. They’re for transferring all the properties into our names.”
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