The bull waits by his fence at the end of the month when he knows it's his time. Some days he knows that he will not go, if there is the smell of rain in the air--when it rains, the ground gets too wet and he slips, so the man in the blue shirt and brown hat does not have him go then.

The bull likes when he goes to town, for the place he goes has ground that is a rich, dark brown and it feels good to trot on. There is a fence that rings the place, but it's not like his fence at home. At home, the things near him are flies and gnats and, in the spring, moths. In the place in town, a crowd waits close to the fence to watch him strut to the pen.

They used to try to ride him, and while the man in the blue shirt and brown hat says they still can, they don't now. The bull was once called The Beast back when he would throw men off his back as soon as they climbed on him. But the bull is old now and new bulls fill his spot.

The crowd still loves him though, but they do not cheer for him like they used to. His old job in the ring made his poor bull heart pound too fast from the stress, but he likes the trips now. It's dull where the flies and gnats are, though the grass is nice and plush, and the man in the blue shirt seems to sense this.

When he brings the bull, they both watch the new pride of the ring, the new Beast. He makes fools of men, too, and has a sleek black coat like the old Beast did. The bull thinks of the new Beast as he waits by his fence in a hot June. He thinks of the last trip, when a brave young man thought to step up to the ring and face The Beast.

The man had a blue shirt and brown hat just like the old man, and he had the same color hair, a pale brown that matched their hats. When the young man went in the ring, sure to step past the gate with care, so it did not swing back at him, the bull heard the old man yell out, "you go get 'em, son!"

The bull had seen the old man at his best in the past and he had been the only one to ever tame The Beast. Both bull and man were sure the son would have the same skill, so they both could not look in any place but the ring. Their eyes were fixed to the young man, who was ready to mount The Beast. The crowd let out a roar as he swung one leg up, then its twin.

He was not on there long, a breath at most, when The Beast gave one kick and he flew off. The old man gasped and rushed to his son, the crowd was in a state of shock, and the Beast was so proud, as he was not yet tamed by any man.

At the pride The Beast felt, the bull in his pen by the fence smiles and thinks back on that day with his own sense of pride. He thinks to himself how great it is to have his old wild self shown in his own son. And he waits to see him each month with a dad's pride in his eye.