We dig living in the country. Rolling hills. Dirt roads. Mr. C. Cow owns a pick up truck. What we’re not into is country music. I’m not a big fan of singing about our dirt roads or how my pick up truck makes me slightly more attractive to others. Mr. C. might be, slightly, more interested than my non-interest because I have heard him singing about dirt roads while in the shower. With this said, we just visited a country-western bar.
It wasn’t a planned trip. More like a stop at a gas station next to the bar trip. As I’m pumping gas, I lost track of Mr. C. Cow. When I finished paying, I noticed a cow wearing spurs walk into the bar. I don’t know how many cows own spurs (I didn’t even know Mr. C. had any!) so I had to chase after him.
Having stubby little otter legs, chasing isn’t a quick thing to do. It’s more of a creeping movement rather than a rapid follow. By the time I made it in through the saloon doors, Mr. C. Cow was country line dancing with a duck. If you’ve never seen a duck country line dance with a cow then you haven’t really lived!
I wasn’t too surprised that Mr. C. Cow knew how to country line dance. I’ve seen him shimmy, electric slide, electric boogie, and boogie electric woogie. Country line dancing was right up his alley. The surprising thing was the fact that Mr. C. owned spurs. I didn’t even know he knew what spurs were. We’re talking about someone who thought a ten gallon hat had to hold that many gallons in liquids to earn the name. It doesn’t and my living room rug can show you just where all of the liquid goes. A cow who thought the phrase “Hold Your Horses” was a literal thing. Country line dancing….not a surprise. Spurs….super (and dangerously sharp) surprise.
I’m gong to let Mr. C. Cow have some fun dancing. I’ll just get a drink from the bartender, take a deep breath, and make a mental list of spur rules if he’s going to wear them around. My living room rugs can’t take anymore abuse.
Photos taken by moi in Second Life.
Second Life Location: The Rusty Spur (M)