I was thinking today that I needed to write a followup to yesterday's post. Jack said he thought about shoes and cows, and I only wrote about shoes. So now I must write about cows.
Taking a bit of literary license, I'm going to write about bulls instead.
Well, one bull in particular.
The bull that stopped us in the middle of a mountain road while we were taking my mother, who was in town for a visit, on a scenic drive. The bull that looked inclined to charge us if we made one false move.
We would not have been as intimidated by that bull if the hood of our car wasn't already crumpled up by the deer we hit a few days earlier on the way home from a family wedding in San Pete county. That crumpled hood made us feel a bit more vulnerable than usual as we watched the bull eyeing us suspiciously, pawing the ground with his front hoof.
Eventually he wandered off. Relieved and thankful that we would not have to explain a second incident to the insurance company, we pressed on.
2 comments:
Actually, Margy, do you remember that a pickup truck came along from the other direction with a bunch of kids in the back. They all yelled and screamed and the bull took off. I was so glad my cousin Kirsten, who had been visiting us from Norway, had gone home. She's even scared of horses!
That's right! I forgot about the pickup truck!
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