Wanted One Good Cowgirl

Apply here: Must be able to take the smell of calf s--- in the cab of a truck. Must not mind calf s---on your purse. Must be able to drive with a kicking calf in the cab with you. Must be able to tolerate men at the cattle auction laughing at you. One more morning like this morning I'm hangin' up my spurs. I knew there was a catch to John wanting me to go with him so bad this morning. He had decided to take the baby calf to auction because he thinks the mama has a better chance of recovery without the calf suckling the mama that ate too much clover. Gotta rmember this is not a hobby farm or ranch. We were out early and drove everywhere we could on the 400 acres looking for the cow and calf. The last place we looked down the lane to the back forty they were there on the ground resting. Before me and the calf knew it John had grabbed it and got in the passenger side of the truck telling me to get under the wheel and away we went. Over the thirty miles more or less it got a little wild two or three times. I could see it getting on my side making me have a wreck but John was able to contain it and calm it down by talking baby talk and petting it. Lets just say the truck didn't smell like roses when we got there. Yes John has a trailer but it so happened his daughter and her neighbor had borrowed it this morning to take some of their goats to market in Uvalde, Texas. On the way in I was so angry at John I vowed to myself I'm not laying a hand on cleaning this truck or my purse. I'll just throw my purse in the garbage. Well I like that little purse, I've had lots of compliments on it so I did clean it and even went over what John had cleaned in the truck. I always have to laugh to myself when Jack here in blogland calls me a cowgirl because deep inside I know all I am is a wannabe cowgirl. This morning I felt like the real thing.