Tales from the O-NO Ranch
Surly God has a sense a humor, wouldn’t you agree? I went out the other morning to feed the ponies and distribute the hay in the usual places. Under the shed for ole fat Howdy and Gabe and then around the outside of the shed at the end for the new horse, Dakota. Dakota is my little granddaughter’s horse and of course, he is at the end of the peckin’ order.
As I filled the tub with water I noticed that ole Howdy had slipped out from under the shed and taken over little Dakota’s feed bunk. Dakota came runnin’ to me with that, “he’s bullying me again,” look. I picked up a fiberglass sorting pole, the kind you sort cattle with and headed for Howdy. As I rounded the shed he knew he was in big trouble and wheeled around to run. As he did I whacked him on the rump with the pole and at that exact moment he slipped on some frozen snow underneath a manure pile and down he went, all 1,300 pounds of him. I know he thought for sure that I had knocked him down with that little swat I gave him. I “laffed” as I watched him regain his feet and run out of the corral. I let him stay out for a few minutes to think it over and then allowed him back inside. He went to his usual spot and gladly went to havin’ breakfast.
Now for the rest of the story: I rode ole Bubba, my motorcycle, into Wellington for coffee and to get my mail. After good coffee and conversation at the T Bar Inn, I rode down the end of block to the post office.
As I stopped ole Bubba and began to roll him back into the curb to park, he started to lean really heavy to the right. Oh No! I gotta’ keep him up, I can’t let this big rascal fall over, I’ll never get him picked up again.
As ole Bubba began to slip from my grasp, I’m holdin’ on the handlebars for dear life in some vain effort to keep him upright. All the while I’m helplessly crankin’ down on the throttle which is on the right handlebar.
With the loud pipes screamin’ and belchin’, I’ve alerted everyone within the county that I’m makin’ a fool of myself. I tried desperately to get ole Bubba back on his feet with no luck what-so-ever. Finally a good soul out walkin’ the dog with his wife, stopped and offered to help. I told him I didn’t know if both of us could get ole Bubba up, but we did and I am forever grateful to that nice feller. I could just see God smilin’ all the while ole Bubba was layin’ down. I reckon he was thinkin’, “well, hotshot, you had a “laff” out of ole fat Howdy goin’ down, why isn’t it funny to watch ole Bubba go down?” I was humbled.
Spring is comin’ early, I just know it. Gonna’ get on the bike and run up to Estes Park today for a good ride through the mountains.
Stay tuned, check yer cinch on occasion and I’ll c. ya.
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