Three Days Late and Two Longhorns Short

Hick stops at nothing to ensure the safety of his precious life-mate, Val. Yeah. You didn't think I was talking about someone else, did you? I don't know if it's so much a function of his undying love, or his view of me as his personal property. Anyhoo...Hick stops at nothing to ensure my safety. Except when it comes to the condition of T-Hoe, who is now plodding along on 4% remaining oil life.

As I type this, it is Tuesday evening. Tuesday. Today at noon, I got a text from my sweet baboo. "I just wanted to let you know to be careful if you go to town, because Sunday night when I went to Goodwill, there were two longhorn cattle in the middle of the road on the curve by the Best compound."

Such a loving, caring husband, concerned about my safety on Tuesday after encountering road blockage on Sunday. Better late than never, I suppose. Let the record show that there are numerous Best families who live on the county road. One has a mansion that hotels built, another is a house-flipper who sold us our long-ago rental duplex, and the others are of unknown career paths. So this longhorn crossing could have been in any of three turn-offs along the blacktop road.

Also let the record show that no known longhorns are being grazed in this area. There are sheep. And Hereford and Angus and Charolais and mutts, and there used to be those Belted Galloways that people call Oreo cows. But I have seen nary a longhorn.

It is quite possible that Hick does not know what he saw. It could have been cows, it could have been deer, it could have been the Grinch dog with antlers tied on top of his head. One time Hick and The Pony went to town, and were shocked to see a dinosaur down by the creek. Then they determined it was some kind of giant prehistoric bird. Or, as I suggested, an emu escaped from the emu farm on the other side of our gravel-road community.

And further let the fat record show that I was not even going to town by that route today, because the rain had poured since 1:00 a.m., and flooded bridges were the norm, and I knew better that to try that section notorious for overflowing creeks.

But at least my sweet baboo was looking out for me three days late and in the wrong direction with his questionable road hazards.