Horses of the County Island, it is time for us to become more vigilant. It’s been made my business that we got bonafide cattle rustlers here on the Island lately. I couldn’t make this up if I tried. Now, stealin cattle ain’t no laughin matter. In fact, back at the ranch, it’s considered one of the most serious of the people-crimes and it’s a matter to be settled by the sheriff or the police, or by what’s called Mr. Winchester or Mr. Colt. But considerin we got cows around here that’s got names (and you should never give a cow name, ‘cause it gives ‘em notions) like Chocolate Chip and Sunflower and Maggie Moo, I can’t help but chuckle, imaginin the rustlers cooin after cattle in the dead of night, sweet-talkin ’em into getting on their livestock trailer, “C’mon, Chocolate Chippy-Wippy… Who’s a good cow?”
Don’t laugh. I heard it, and worse, with my own ears, when my gal’s taken me to play people cow games, like sortin and pennin. Instead of yellin “Yaa!” and “Git!” which is proper, she and her friends will try all manner of nicey-nicey talk to get them cows to move to where they want ‘em to go. You should never use politeness on a cow. Horses tell cows what to do, and then cows do it. If our gal’d just let me do my job with the cows, I’d get ‘em all sorted or penned right quick, and then we could all go home instead of spendin the whole danged day trying to do a job that should only take minutes.
But Coors Light tells me we got rustlers, for real. And so we all got to keep our eyes open and our ears up, to do what, well, I ain’t exactly sure yet. But maybe the next time one of us horses kinda spooks or gets looky on ya when you’re out ridin us, maybe you people should think that we’re tryin to tell ya somethin instead of gettin mad at us or thinkin we’re just playin at bein silly.
Seems Coors Light was out ridin on the road with our gal, when a rumbly-truck pulled up alongside them, and the people in the truck asked if our gal had seen three black cows lately, ‘cause they is missin three of their own black cows. They said they made “signs” to put around the County Island so if anybody sees their cattle, the people can call their “phone number.” Coors Light didn’t catch that information, but now all us horses will be vigilant in lookin for black cows where there weren’t no black cows before, if the rustlers was foolish enough to steal cattle and hide ‘em in plain sight. Which they might be. This is the County Island, after all.
So if you hear me snortin three times, right quick, when we’re out ridin, maybe you can figure that means “Hey! There is the rustled cattle, right over there!” instead of thinkin terrible notions like “Maybe I should cut back on Whiskey’s alfalfa.”