What will the Neighbors Say?
Writing is my therapeutic relief where I can ventilate life’s frustration and share with my friends, family and followers the true comedy of life as cowgirl and a little cowgirl’s mama.
Today’s laughable moments begin as we prepare to feed cows.
We have a feed truck for this daily routine equipped for the purpose with a rear seat for passengers.
The littlest widget, of course along to help drive and run the radio, the heater, the wipers, the AC…
Her lunchbox loaded with: pop, candy, jerky, animal crackers (pink and white-frosted. Animal crackers that in her mind’s eye, are the animal’s treats. The Corgi and the Hound did eat every last crumb while I was out cutting twine.)
Today’s feeding crew: the Hound, the widget, the Corgi, myself and Baxon. We are quite a crew to serve this feeding chore. We have plenty of groceries in tow just in case we do get stuck. Everyone has a task when feeding the hay, myself to drive, the widget running controls and passing out treats, the hound to notify of intruders, my Corgi to keep the seat warm, and Baxon to hold down the dash.
Baxon, the cat, has made a habit of tagging along each morning. He waits patiently near the feed truck prepared to pounce into the cab at the first opportune moment any door is ajar. He rides sprawled across the dash-board as we maneuver the 50 yards to the cows. Where once we begin feeding and I have the widows down to hear my orders, Baxon is out and upon the roof.
Though we dare not attempt finding our way across the cattle infested corral without Baxon, I fear that our Cowboy image is jeopardized.
What will the neighbors say if they see Baxon helping us feed?
What would the neighbors say?