The Ninja Mountain Goat Trainer in Olathe Boots

by Kevin on February 28, 2013

It’s been a while since everyone has heard from me. I had a bull break my arm in a squeeze chute and typing was very difficult to say the least. It was my right arm and I am very right handed. Now before you go to thinking that this bovine got the best of me, he is now a steer. And I just had ninety days of of trying to learn to wipe my butt with my left hand…go ahead, try it smart alec.

One week ago, I got my cast off. It wasn’t completely healed all the way, but after much whining and being a baby, the doctor agreed to take it off on two conditions:

1) No lifting anything over twenty-five pounds…

2) Do not fall down…

You have to understand that I am like a ninja-mountain goat when it comes to staying on my feet. Proud rams from the mountains of Tibet send their kids (get it?) to me for training. I don’t do many things well, but staying on my feet is one of them….so I thought.

Although I didn’t tell the doctor anything, I scoffed at his assumption that I could fall down. I might weeble-wobble, but I don’t fall down.

It felt good to get the cast off, but my wrist was swollen up like a mad teenage girl. It hurt like hell too.

We got some snow the other day. With snow, comes a dash of slipperinessity. I still don’t have the gear needed to survive this Colorctic weather, so I just wear my Olathe boots…with the leather soles…which don’t provide much traction…which, oh well, you are starting to understand.

I stepped in the house (on a slicker-than-snot ceramic tile floor installed by Satan) and was going to take my boots off to avoid the “wrath of wife” for tracking in snud. (That’s the half snow, half mud stuff that Texans living in Colorctic accumulate on the bottom of our boots.)

I use a boot jack because I am 100% cowboy…and too lazy to bend over.

(Broken arm…wrist hurting…slick floor…leather soled boots…boot jack…don’t fall down)

One boot went on the jack to steady it and then I lifted the other boot and placed it in the cradle…and pulled.

Please take a moment to imagine a giraffe (a strikingly handsome giraffe), unloaded off a plane on to a lake of semi-frozen KY Jelly. Hobble him on one side and then tie a back leg up…and then fore-foot him.

My ninja skills kicked in as I fought to keep the floor where it belonged. It was instinctual, honed from years of training with Jedi masters. And I fought for an eternity, all the while my wife was yelling encouragement from her position three feet away.

“Oh! Ooh! Nooo! Watch out!! HONEY!!!”

That’s when the mighty warrior fell….

Head first right into the dog kennel.

But luckily the door was open on the big wire kennel. That way, the door could slip under my left arm and twist me horizontally so I could catch all my weight right on my broken arm. Thank goodness the rest of the kennel was able to break my fall by catching me right under the nose.

Cowboys don’t cry, but they have been known to have runny eyes. Must be the cold weather.

For all are broken and have fallen flat in our walk with God. Romans 3:23 (SCV)

Kevin Weatherby
Save the Cowboy

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  • Man! You are so lucky that kennel was there! No tellin’ what might have been damaged if you had just had the floor to break your fall! I’m sure your bride was sympathetic and rushed to your side to see what injuries might have occurred!

  • Old Ralph

    You can be 500 miles from home and brag on your dog, and when you get home and go back to work, your dog will embarras you. On your best day you can ride any bucking horse there is, but there will be days that an old gentle horse will stumble and lay you out like a National Finals Saddle Bronc. Stop Look Listen, and then ,maybe, speak.

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