I should have taken the vet's advice

My offspring came roaring in this morning just in time for coffee and attacked the cookie jar on the counter. Laughing and loving their main cookie maker, they made a lively entrance. I knew they should have been busy on the farm but what you gonna do with a couple of brazen fellers? We visited some and they informed me the old bloater was once again blown up like a Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade balloon.

As I pulled on my hat and boots, I was wishing I had shipped that old bloater to market last year. I heard the vet tell me to let her go because she was probably gonna bloat again and I'd be doctoring for the rest of her life on this place. I should have listened then and I always regret not doing so. Why would a feller with half a brain pay a vet for advice and not do as he instructed?

I was glad to let my offspring do the barn chores and I saddled Snip and recoiled my rope. I am not a professional roper, never did any heading and heeling and do not want to have an audience as I swing a loop. I know how, but doing it is not the same as knowing.

Snip was as fresh as a daisy and old Dog went along for the event. We were having a good time if I just didn't have to think about the cow who would probably up and die on me. I just rode past the stampeding herd as they were pretty sure I would have a sack of cubes and I didn't want them to knock me and Snip plumb over. They mingled in front and behind like pet pups and there was the bloater hanging out behind the herd. I knew she should have been shipped!

We rode along until the cattle decided I wasn't interesting and began to drift away. I eased around to get behind my target and started making a loop. That old hide was on to me and waddled as fast as she could toward the house. I was wishing my close relative was around and could open the gate and we would just run the cow into the lot. I knew she wouldn't be but I could wish.

I hit a lope and managed to swing the loop over the bloated bovine's head and dallied for a quick stop. Snip seems to love sliding in like a seven-year-old boy loves to slide into home plate! The cow flew up and flattened out on the ground with a thump heard round the world! I grabbed my other rope and hopped off to tie her feet and by the time I reached her I knew she was plumb dead! Eyes rolled and, her last breath wheezing out, she had given up the ghost for greener pastures.

It is my opinion, and everyone has one, being a cattleman is an honored and wonderful profession. It affords country living, fresh air, being close to nature and all the good things about being your own boss. It should also be mixed with some sense of education. You know, the education of paying for counsel and using the advice a feller knows is right. I am telling you I was pained to have to haul off a dead cow when I could have hauled off a live one and got paid for her a couple weeks ago. I hope I have learned the lesson, again!

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

Community on 01/29/2014