Shorty Ties one on

Have you ever heard the term used by the older and wiser cowhands,"slow down so we can get done faster?" This, on many a frosty fall morning is used as a kind of prophesy when a neighbor comes to gather strays on outfits all across The Great Basin. Inevitably, with most fences around the basin built by the CCR sometime after the Big War, there are gaps. So what ends up happening around weaning time is a rodear to sort strays. On this particular morning there was a fair assembly representing just about every neighboring ranch. Occasions like this seem to cause anomalies in cosmic energy to shift. For example for some un researched by science reason all K9's forget their names on mornings like this. It is kinda thought of as the norm for a few cows to be missing ears and tails after such a rodear. That simple fact seems to stir the cattle a bit. Now stirred cattle, to a dyed in the wool buckaroo, for some strange reason causes him to automatically think that something needs to be roped. Perhaps like when Cro-Magnon Man discovered fire and just had that impulse to roast a slab of mastodon prime rib. Somehow satisfying the use of his canine teeth. Well Shorty was no different, nor was his partner Slim. They picked out about a 700 lb weanling that had a whole bunch to much fur covering its early spring iron. Just to be on the safe side of verifying ownership, all were in agreement to shave his brand. For sure, Slim threw a positive down right true head catch complete with a heap long dally. Before he could shorten a little Shorty reached and caught both hind feet. Now I am not saying he was hung over or anything like that, but all the clues kinda pointed that direction. Slow and dramatic reflexes being one of those clues. All things from here on slowed for reasons none of the buckaroos present shall ever fully comprehend. As the cow boss unmounted and proceeded to shave this foreign and unknown brand, that big fellow just kind of let out a bellar. Now Blacky did not take a whole lot of compassion on this calf. Quite the contrary he got a little cross. One tiny crow hop into this now front row type of event. Shorty whispers, " um I have a small problem." For somehow, when he went to stack his dallies, he had successfuly included about four complete dallies of his heavy shirt tails. Lucky for Shorty, as the rest of the hands went for popcorn for proper wreck viewing. Slim slid a coil or two of his 65 footer across the mule hide, to the cow boss, who wasted little time in undoing Shorty's predicament. About 30 whoa- easy sons later, Shorty's breathing came back to him in short powerful surges. Blacky let out about two gallons of conserved up perspiration. You know we never did figure out who owned that maverick!