When you live on a farm and livestock get old and stop producing a profit you have to sell them. Every now and then I have a soft spot for one and grant a pardon, this is where Thelma comes from. We've had her for a long time, she has a calf every year and holds her weight well. She's not a "hard keeper" as some would say. Last year she started to really show her age, she lost weight and didn't have a calf, so that automatically means she needs to be sold. In this business like most you can't afford to lose money just because your attached to something. I named her Thelma but like most of the animals I name daddy can't keep up with them. She's been called Zelda, Mabel, Abalene, and his most favorite, "your damned old aggravating cow". Saying I'm attached to her is putting it lightly. She's the type of cow that puts it in gear when she sees me coming, there's not going to be anything come in between that feed bucket and her. She let's me rub on her and usually gets a little extra feed, but if I don't pour it fast enough she has no problem pushing me out of the way and taking matters into her own hands. One of the other fine qualities of Thelma is if we ever have cows get out that are a little hard to deal with, we can take her to them and she'll bring them in for us.
One day last year when we were working all the cows daddy said, "Thelma's got to go, she's not doing well and won't be here much longer." I absolutely do not believe in throwing temper tantrums. They'll get you know where in life, but begging on the other hand is not beneath me and when it comes to her I'll do whatever it takes to keep her. After begging, pouting, and every now and then slipping her out of the pen when he wasn't looking I won. He let me put her with the bulls in the wheat that we sowed. A month or so went by and I told daddy that she was picking up, another month went by and she was looking like her old self again, a few more months she had a little black calf running along beside her. Since she's made her full recovery she's become a bit fat and sassy, this week the bulls became bored with their surroundings and took a jog through downtown Bell Buckle. My girl Thelma stayed at home just like she was supposed to, until late the other afternoon. Mama called about seven that night and said, "where's your daddy? He left about an hour ago to get some cow up.'' I said, "I have no idea I'll call him." Just as I hung up with her the phone rang again, no hello I need your help, all he said was "get over here and help me get your damn Thelma up now! She won't do anything I want her to!" I was so happy that he finally called her the right name it didn't register with me that I better hurry up and do something or that pardon would be overturned and revoked. In true Thelma fashion when we got there she had somehow slipped around and was where she was supposed to be, standing there like she had never left.
A day or so has gone by and daddy isn't mad at her anymore and all is well with both of them, but today he said "you do know I could sell her and she'd probably bring $1,000." My reply was simple "Only $1,000! I would laugh at that offer, don't you know you can't put a price on love?''
