Among the most pleasant memories of my childhood is Master Roman, that was the name of the baker who baked bread at my father's establishment called "Vesna," located on the corner of our house.

His figure is etched in my memory despite the passing years. He had a slender build, dark, almost black skin, with thick mustaches, as was fashionable at the time.

I was the youngest of the boys in my house, and since Master Roman was kind to children, it was only natural that we got along. One of my most pleasant moments at that time was my presence in the bakery, that is, in Master Roman's domain. He always asked me, "Which animal do you want today?" because he took it upon himself to make me a dough figure of an animal, which I then baked and enjoyed very much. Among these figures, I remember the best one was the bull figure because he made it with special care.

He made that figure for me so often that one day I asked him, "Master Roman, why do you always make it?"

He answered me, "I just remember something my father told me, he learned it from his grandfather, and he from his great-grandfather." Thus, for several generations, this family passed down orally what Master Roman told me.

I find it necessary to clarify that what is written below is not exactly the story I heard, but it is based on what was told.

Many years ago, when our country was still under Spanish rule, in a house that until recently stood on the west side of the square known as El Toro Square, lived a Spaniard named Don Rodrigo de las Cuevas y Echegaray. He had a cattle ranch where they bred a breed of bulls used to participate in the bullfights held during the annual festival of the Patroness of Izamal in December.

The runs that took place in the demonstration arena were a source of pride for Don Rodrigo; he personally presented his bulls and watched their runs from the roof of his house, if he did not come down to take part in them.

Among the cattle on his ranch stood out a black bull with impeccable posture and unmatched bravery. Several people who knew this animal wanted to buy it or asked why he did not take it to the bullfight, to which Don Rodrigo replied that he had every reason not to because the bull belonged to his wife Doña Filomena, who loved it very much and did not allow it to be harmed.

It was true; when the bull was born on the ranch, its mother died, and then Don Rodrigo brought the little bull to his home and handed it over to his wife Doña Filomena, who cared for it so well that thanks to her constant care, she managed to raise such an excellent specimen of a true bull. It was said that the only person who could approach the bull was Doña Filomena herself; when the bull saw her, it ran to meet her and walked beside her like a pet, that is, there was mutual understanding and affection between the lady and the animal. Doña Filomena had a gentle character, unlike Don Rodrigo, who was sometimes unpredictable when anger took hold of him.

It is said that one day, when Don Rodrigo and Doña Filomena, standing on the terrace overlooking the ranch's cattle yard, quarreled so fiercely that at one point Don Rodrigo pushed his wife so hard that she fell to the ground inside the pen. El Toro saw this, approached the lady's body, and seeing Don Rodrigo standing on the terrace, roared in full rage as if he understood what had happened. It was difficult to save Doña Filomena's body; even the cowboys on the ranch had to intervene to take the animal away, but when she was saved, she was already dead.

Don Rodrigo stopped visiting his ranch often because every time the animal saw him, it began to roar as if throwing his deed in his face, so the bull was sold to the first person who asked for it.

Several months passed, the festival time and bullfights came to an end, when Don Rodrigo, from the roof of his house, saw with surprise that they had brought the bull he had sold. Overcome with anger, he began shouting for the animal to leave, but the only thing he achieved with his shouts was that the bull noticed him and began to roar fiercely, as if calling him to come down from where he stood. Since this did not happen, it charged at Don Rodrigo's house and crashed into the wall with a loud crash. With great difficulty, it got up again and, stepping back a little, saw Don Rodrigo again and, roaring furiously, charged at the house again, crashing into the wall once more. With loud groans that gradually faded, it died right there.

This event caused a sensation among all those present, but the story does not end there. It is said that in the quiet pre-dawn hours, when it was dark and drizzling rain, the entire neighborhood was gripped by terror when suddenly terrible screams were heard in the square in front of Don Rodrigo's house, which did not stop until the clear dawn announced the arrival of a new day. That day, Don Rodrigo was found dead in his bed with an expression of extreme horror on his face.

Since then, this place has been called "Bull Square," as it continues to be called to this day.