One of the tribulations of life is living through all the stuff that happens to a man or his family. What I mean to say is - well, how can I put it? - why do we need to suffer for the mistakes made by some feller so long ago following the lead of a female who wore olive leaves for clothing? You just know she couldn’t head a cow dressed like that!

We have to live on through ice and snow no matter how good or bad we’ve been. I am forever distraught over the bitter cold for calves and wild animals. The bonechilling weather is knife sharp and surely goes right through the hairy defenses of all the critters that are forced to deal with it. I feel downright mean when I see Snip out in the lot, icicles formed around his nostrils and me gettinginto a warm home.

The guilt burden was dealt with when I was a kid too. I tried to keep my first horse in the lean-to but he finally convinced me he would rather be out. Cattle will sometimes seek shelter but many times I would have thought they would when they didn’t.

The Grands have not made a truce with the frigid cold. They piled in on my close relative as she feigned surprise on the snow day from school. Giggling and red-cheeked, they descended with expectations of hot chocolate and cookies. I saw them coming as I checked the steers and watched them try to make snow angels, snowballs and mostly just rough house. They are not unlike a pen of yearlings, fat and sassy.

Then my fears came to reality and I found a water line busted. The break was in a well house on the leased place and, thankfully, not underground. I was almost frozen by the time I waded in and got the well shut down, assessed the damage and got back to the house for dry clothes. I made the trip to town worthwhileand had a cup of coffee at the emporium to wash down a slab of pie.

Cattle need water and they don’t seem to understand that I am working toward that end when the tank is dry or frozen dry. The bawling was horrendous and the pushing and shoving was like a riot at aRock concert as the water poured from the spigot. I watched them from the warmth of the truck and enjoyed the sight.

I knew when I put it into gear and the funny bump occurred I had a flat tire. I was so aggravated and dreaded changing the tire so badly that I just sat there for a few minutes.

I was hoping I was wrong and maybe I had run over a bigger-thanusual cow patty. The purr of the motor went from a warm, smooth hum into a spasmodic cough and then total silence. See, things can get worse.

It is my opinion, and everyone has one, dragging your feet can be costly. Get the job taken care of and move along. If I had it to do over, I’d drive straight to the hardware store, straight to the broken pipe, immediately return to the house and run out of fuel there instead of three miles from headquarters.

I am grateful for the lady who recognized me from church, picked me up and delivered me to the house even though I had hiked a couple of miles. She did not mention my manly odor, the mess on her floorboard or the fact that I could hardly talk due to the inability to use my frozen lips and cheeks!

Bill is a pen name used by the Gravette author of this weekly column.

Opinion, Pages 6 on 01/19/2011