A couple of weeks ago, we were driving back roads to another town. “We” being me and the man I’m dating. By the way, this brave soul’s Internet pseudonym is now and forever, Dr. Doctor because the man just can’t say “no” to graduate school. I think this is why he tirelessly answers my questions. I’m still a bit gobsmacked he is dating me: I’m afraid of horses; I would be as useful as “Prissy” from Gone with the Wind when it’s time for the cows to give birth; I would fuss about breaking nails if asked to set fence. Is it setting the fence? I don’t know…but it’s fixing a fence which sounds like a lot of work I’ve never done before. (Trust me, about eight of you will descend on me to explain the nomenclature for fixing fences) But he keeps spending time with me. Ah the mystery of human attraction and pheromones.
Anyhow, we’re driving the pockmarked two-lane highway and I’m gawking at the old farmhouses like I’ve never seen a porch before; when we pass two very pristine dark blue tanks and he slows a bit:
“Guess what those are.” Dr. Doctor patted my leg so I knew there was a good-natured lecture coming up.
“No, they are siloes”
Hey! Trick question, of course I know they are silos, sheesh how dumb does he think I am…I decide this will remain an inside voice question.
“What do you think they have in them?”
“Hmmm…I bet they have silage in them.”
“Do you know what silage is?” He gave me a sidelong glance with a big wink.
“I do now that I misused the word on the blog. All y’all nomenclature nannies made sure I knew I was wrong. It’s corn stalks naturally fermented.” I was very proud and sounded like a ten year old reciting the state capitals as I explained to him what silage was. But I was wrong. Again.
“Actually it’s the whole plant.”
Damn…someday I’ll get this agri-business right. Fortunately, he has a lot of patience.
Dr. Doctor is even giving me great leeway with Miss B the dog. When I pull into the drive near the house, she runs up to the car, tongue hanging from her big grin and a busy tail that would dust the living room if she were allowed in the house. I am barely out of the car when she rolls to her back; exposing a belly for gratuitous rubs. I kneel next to her and we make eyes at each other while I tell her exactly what a brave dog she is for defending the ranch against coyotes. All of this makes Dr. D grimace with embarrassment. I believe he called Miss B’s behavior “unseemly for a guard dog.”
“I had her trained to not do that before you came along.”
“Oh, really? Whoops…sorry!”
Oh yeah? Well just you wait by Thanksgiving Harley the donkey will be sleeping next to the front steps with Miss B. And won’t that be cute? A dog and her donkey!
I wonder if Harley will let me rub his belly? And is begging for belly rubs “unseemly behavior” in a donkey? And what does that look like? How does a donkey ask for a belly rub?