I’m pretty sure the views of this #2 most viewed Ranch Pen post come from people searching for what in the cat-hair that emoji thing is. I bet they’re very surprised when this super-countrified post turns up.
An update on the news in the old post. The kitties grew up and one, at least, became a mother. One of of her relatives, Goldfish, is mousing about the place at this very moment. Nellie’s leg is fine and she’s a beautiful dog who runs all day long, every day, chasing things. The fizzled bull is just a distant belch, but we have three or four other herd bulls who will someday make excellent hamburgers, too. The grandson, Roper, still swims like a fish and just killed his first deer this fall to put venison in the freezer for his family.
The blog suffers at times from blog stinkerosis, also known as, the-old-gal’s-got-too-much-goin’-on-and-her-head’s-about-to-explode-look-out!. It’s a real condition. Look it up. You’ll find it under C for crazy ladies. Anyway, to get us off the fourth of July post I’ll rake through some bits of this and chunks of that to see what turns–Oh, hey! I found out something interesting. Anybody with an iPhone emoji keyboard ever wondered what this emoji thing is? 😤 My eyes are going the way of the rest of me and for the longest time (at least a week or two,) I wondered why that emoji thing was chewing on a sock. However, daughter-in-law #2 asked SIRI–our professional nag–and she said the emoji is: Huffing with anger face.
A quick internet search revealed the emoji actually has steam coming out its non-existent nose, which I totally get, now, but I am going to call my emoji, Oh, put a sock in it, why don’t ya?.
Then we have the barn cat, Tip’s, little fuzz balls. They are fat as butter. If they’re half as good’a cats as their mother, we’ll never have a rodent problem again.
And Nellie, the three-legged dog on the eve of cast removal. Let us hope she has grown a brain in the past weeks and won’t try to bite tires again.
Gramps gathered a bunch of our cows last week for “preg” checking, only to find they were what is called “open”, meaning not bred. Gramps hauled the herd bull up to the clinic to get tested, only to find the bull had fizzled. A lot of things can cause the fizzle such as injuries or ill health, but the bull was hale and hearty, in the prime of his life, and a Don Juan among bulls, yet…nothing. To save Bully’s feelings, I won’t include a picture of his microscope slide. Since the bull weighs almost two-thousand-pounds and we don’t keep herd bulls for pets, he will be off to the livestock auction where a slaughter buyer will purchase him and he will be converted into many pounds of juicy, hormone-free and grass-fed hamburger.
Thanks so much for reading and God bless all y’all as you listen to The Piano Guys and this beautiful performance of O Come, O Come, Emmanuel.