Yup, more a the same; black clouds, thunder, lightnin', wind and a sprinkle. I mentioned, once, ignorin' the weather, try to get it's attention, but I kinda think it's the other way around; I sure am thinkin' about "it". So, curious, it wants to rain everywhere but here. Now, there's a relationship I ain't never gonna fit in a drawer; not anytime soon.
Talked about Big, yesterday, and his sore feet. Got thinkin' about it later. I had talked to the vet, several times about things I might could do, help him out. The vet mentioned, once a month, givin' him some "bute", horse aspirin', break the cycle of pain and swellin', which I tried. Thing is, no matter how I try ta hide it, sweet feed, honey, applesauce, Big seemed ta know what I was up to and refused the whole notion. And, it wasn't just his protestin', bobbin' his head, holdin' it way up high, puttin' it way down low, turnin' it way around the other side, ya know, there's ways a dealin' with that, but when I stopped and thought about it and what he was tryin' ta say, beyond the easy assumptions, soul ta soul, there was somethin' about respect for him, as his own self, made me re-consider, "ya know, could be that would help, but maybe there's somethin' even more important ta him, than his feet, much as they may hurt.".
As I mentioned, Big was a high dollar roper and judgin' by his extremely sweet nature, likely give himself to it wholeheart; believin' the best about his human handlers and lovin' the chance ta do what he was good at, the crowds cheerin' him on. When trouble appeared, swellin' in his ankles from all the poundin', slammin' on the breaks, hard rodeo grounds, day after day, jerkin' calves, no doubt, the "bute" came out, dull the pain; one more go, another "purse" for the owner.
When I found him, I was trimmin' hooves for a local rancher, he'd been left there by the ambitious roper, "good fer nothin'"! I was told not ta bother with him, he'd be goin' to the meat market. I asked, if I come up with the "meat money", if I could take him home. The rancher gave me a curious look, suspectin' I suppose, I might be "one a them bleedin'heart liberals", but, 25 cents a pound, I come back with my trailer and home with Big.
Big mighta believed in somethin', ended up hurtin' him pretty bad and maybe more his heart than his feet. So, much as we love each other and much as I hate ta see him suffer, maybe there's somethin' even bigger, he'd rather face, head on. So, even "bute", with all it's "benefit", for me ta insist, boy, I think I'd be overlookin' somethin' very, very big. And, when I find him out in the middle, all by himself and he comes outta that zone, gives me a look, a sniff and a nibble on my chaps, stands there for a scratch and a rub, maybe that's all the "bute" we need.
Have a great day!