Cowpassion

A Cowboy, his horse and compassion

Cowpassion

It was just one of those feelings.  I couldn’t explain it in any way, but this time I actually listened and made the drive home.

As I drew near I noticed a man walking along the side of the road.  “Strange.” I whispered to myself.  “I don’t think I’ve seen that cowboy around here before.”

I turned into my drive.  Something was off.  It just wasn’t right!  I slowed toward my garage, looking.  All was quiet. Then, off to my right I saw it.  The middle gate was open, flapping a message to me.

“You had better take a good look in the pasture!”

Look I did!  I only saw grass dancing lightly in the breeze!

By this time I had parked, standing in my drive, looking all around and it didn’t take long.  I spotted two black steers in the corral across the street.  I walked toward them, looking for the cowboy that my instincts begged me to find.

After crossing the street and I continued down a private lane for a bit.  There he was!  Standing.  Talking.  Accessible.

“Looks as if you were kind enough to corral my steers.”  I approached.

“Yes.”  He said, while carefully following up with questions to ensure they belonged to me.  “They’re better off here than on the road!  I gathered them up because I didn’t want them to get hit by a car.  I had one of mine hit by a car last year.  These are fine looking animals!”

“Will you please help me herd them home?”  I asked.

“Sure.  I just need to get some lunch first.  What’s your number and I’ll call you when I’m ready.”

He called in a few minutes, so I took the short walk across the street.  He greeted me sitting high in his saddle.  “I’m too lazy to walk.”  He chuckled.

I knew that wasn’t true because I had seen him walk.  He was simply a cowboy!  A cowboy is always more comfortable wrangling cows on the back of his horse.

“If you’ll open the gate, I’ll go in the corral and push them out.  We’ll keep them on this side so they don’t run where they shouldn’t.”  He said, looking over his shoulder.  “They seem pretty gentle.”

“They are.”  I replied.  “I hand feed them.  They know where they live.”

The steers came out of the corral toward me.  I asked them to go on home and we walked together in that direction.  I talked to the steers.  They know my voice.  They trust it.  I asked the cowboy to come along shoring up our right as part of our procession.

“Not much of a rodeo!” The Cowboy said as I snapped the chain around the gate.  “Don’t know why they’d every want to leave here!  I’m glad they’re safe at home.”

I asked him to wait so I could give him a gift.  It was a small gift compared to the gift of compassion he had given my steers and me!  It was just a feeling.  I couldn’t explain it.  A Cowboy I didn’t know offered a gift of compassionate service that will never be forgotten.