Slim, A Cow Dog - pg2

Night came and old Slim was still going strong, but the horses, other dogs and cowboys were dragged out. We left Slim with the bull and went back to the trailer, loaded up, and went home. Next morning with fresh horses and rested dogs we started out again.

We turned the dogs loose and two hours and six miles later we found old Slim babysittin’ Mr. Bull. I sure didn’t think he would still be there. This time with fairly fresh dogs we were able to get our ropes on a mean, mad, tired bull.

Being a southpaw and not a very good roper, I threw first. The little mare, Bouncer, I was riding was bull wise and pretty strong, but she couldn’t do anything with a mad bull that day. He hit my mare pretty hard nad knocked me off. I got out of the way fast and let ‘em have it. The mare played her roll best she could. Cowboy Barrett got his rope on him and began

stretching him out. I ran for my mare and we got the job done. Old Slim gave us a somewhat disgusted look. I tied off my rope and went back for the trailer. With some help from the horses and dogs, we got Mr. Bull loaded. Slim didn’t help much; he just sat there and watched. We got in and cranked up and Cowboy yelled, "Get in Slim."

Slim didn’t respond as quick as Cowboy though he should and he threw at Slim with a lariat rope. He jumped up on the truck and lay down. We didn’t realize that Slim’s feet were in such had condition until we got to the Calhoun Packing Plant and saw the bloody tracks in the back of the truck. By the time we got home and Cowboy unloaded his horse and gear, old Slim was so sore he could hardly walk. Cowboy figured as how now would be a good time to catch him and doctor his feet.

Cowboy reached for him and Slim growled low, showed his teeth and bristled. Cowboy uttered a few choice words and ended up with, "Go ahead and die you so and so," Slim just held his ground. We went up to the house and Slim got out and lay under the shade tree while we were having coffee.

Several days passed and Cowboy came by to get me to help him with some cattle down below Elkhart. Old Slim was in the back of the truck just as grouchy as ever. The job was easy and Slim seemed disappointed. Cowboy and I worked other jobs that summer and Slim was usually along, grouchy, but ready to work.

The Leonard Brothers in Fort Worth sold their river ranch to the State Department of Corrections that summer and asked us to pen their cattle that fall. They had some old rank wild cattle that hadn’t been penned in years. The job was tough and we rode thirty days catching cattle one at a time. The slews were up and the mud was deep in the Trinity River bottom.

Along toward the end of the job, we hooked up with a big crossbreed Brahma cow that had long sharp horns. She was the wisest, meanest cow critters I ever saw not excusing bulls and steers. Slim had messed with her till she was getting mad and so was he. He made his move and took hold of her nose. She slung her head from side to side, up and down and was running over old Slim all the time. We couldn’t get close enough to get our ropes on her and old Slim just hung on. He was really taking a beating. The old cow made one last desperate effort to get Slim loose and this time she accomplished he aim, but lost part of her nose in the process because Slim sure didn’t let go.

Slim hit the ground with a loud thud but was up and running on three legs in nothing flat. Eventually we ran the old cow into the river and caught her. After tying her to a tree, we stopped to catch our breath and take stock. We didn’t see Slim anywhere. Cowboy whistled and whooped but still no Slim.