I saw the old bull limping yesterday evening and, because I am such a pansy about tragic things, I hoped he was just stiff from lying down on rocks. It was about dark, I was hungry and tired and so I went on to the house. My close relative had supper ready and it sure smelled good, sorta erased the bull from my mind for a while.
I woke up sometime around two with a start. What if that bull was really in pain or, worse, what if he had a broken toe or leg? I got up, dressed and, as I was looking for a place to sit down and put on my socks, my big toe on the left foot got stumped good and proper. It was bleeding around the nail when I finally got into the kitchen and turned the light on. A stumped toe may hurt as bad as brain surgery, although I personally have never had brain surgery.
At this moment in time, this very deep thought passed through my mind. What did I think I was gonna do at 2 in the morning for that dang bull anyway? Now both of us may be plumb crippled. I guess the moans and sounds of misery woke up my close relative, as she appeared in the kitchen door with a shocked look on her face.
I was pleased to sip on some hot coffee as my foot soaked in a tub of Epsom Salt water. We sat around the table and talked about the bull and a thousand other things. It is pretty nice to have a long and uninterrupted visit with your close relative, but the pain in my toe sorta took the edge off my comfort.
Daylight finally broke and I was pretty sure I wasn't gonna die or be bed ridden with my injury. We had breakfast and I found an old boot and cut a hunk out of the toe area so I could wear it. Getting it on was a trial not for the weak-hearted. But, beings as I am so able to stand pain and misery, I managed and got to the barn and saddled Snip.
The big toe on the left foot is in a bad place as you try to mount a horse. I did get on and managed not to scream like a girl. We made it to the bull pasture and hustled up the bulls, made them walk around and bellow at each other. The old bull, lame yesterday, was ready to continue his reign as king this morning. I watched him, the old gimpy one, threaten all the other bulls, snort and paw the ground, twist around flipping his ton body so he could look all the subjects in the eye.
It is my opinion, and everyone has one, taking care of your business has to be a number one priority. I might have thought I would starve or die from exhaustion if I didn't go on in the house last evening, but I'd bet I would not have. And the throb in my toe is gonna remind me every minute.
There it was, proof that all the pain I had gone through and would endure for another week or so was for naught! The bull was OK, probably was stiff or had a rock between his toes when I saw him limping yesterday. I have learned a hard lesson; take care of your business. I thought I had that one down pat a long time ago, but old fellers can still be reintroduced to rules!
Bill is the pen name used by the Gravette author of this weekly column. Opinions expressed are those of the author.
Editorial on 08/20/2014