Joey, the calf who helped me through grief

As a farmer’s daughter, my life has always included animals. Joey arrived soon after my brother’s sudden death when I was 18; he was a tiny twin born to one of my brother’s favourite cows, his sibling dying almost immediately. The farm manager advised letting him go, but I couldn’t follow that pragmatic path.

I hand-milked his mother and fed him myself, taking him to my little cottage so I could watch him whenever I wasn’t working on the farm. He settled alongside my lurcher, Gail, and the unlikely trio of a grieving girl, a dog and a calf began to find a way through the fog of loss.

The early days were touch and go: his lungs were immature and he wheezed badly, he couldn’t stand, slept by the stove and could only drink tiny amounts at a time. Slowly he made progress. He learned to stand and to cross the slippery lino, his coat began to shine and his appetite grew; he started calling for food, which I liked to think was also for me.

joey, calf, grief, farmers daughter, brothers death, twin calf, hand milking, lurcher dog, respiratory issues, animal bond