Willy-Bill made it just past his 20th birthday this March before something terminal happened in his gut and we had to put him down. He was born on this place and nobody was ever on his back but me. I got him past the basics out of a couple of library books then we learned the rest of it together. He had an exceptional cow sense especially with baby calves. One time a new mother forgot where she left her calf, WB, on his own recognized the problem and helped her look for the calf. He had a great sense of humor and with both of us standing on the ground, he would tease me unmercifully.

One time he snatched my pistol out of my back pocket and dropped it into his water bucket. When I would wear rubber chore books, he would grab the front of one boot and lift my foot off the ground, leaving me to hop around on one leg pretending to be terrified. One night, when it was pitch you can’t see the hand in front of your face dark, I was out looking to check on him as I did before bed every night. With no flashlight, I was inching along the edge of a pond because there was just enough light in the sky to reflect back from the water, when something soft tapped me once on the shoulder. EEEEEYOW. But when I was on his back, it was quite different. He took great care of me, like when approaching a tree, he would somehow measure the height of the lowest limb, and if I would have to duck, he would move out away from the tree even if it meant getting into rough ground off the beaten path. Then when his head got under the branch, he would measure again, and if he judged that I would still not clear without nodding my head, not lean forward mind, just nod my head, he would move out even farther. We were friend and companion for twenty years and I do sorely miss him.

Bill from TX