I hate to give the impression I’m countrified, but I won a cow once! How many people can honestly say that? Way back yonder, when I first got married, I dipped deep in my grocery money to buy a two dollar raffle ticket from my little sister-in-law. Her 4-H Club was raffling off a heifer. She hadn’t had much luck peddling her tickets, so we sacrificed for her pride, left the pound of ground chuck ($.89), four ounces of loose tea leaves ($.29) ketchup ($.29), and a bottle of imitation of vanilla ($.69) off our grocery list. That brought us close enough that we managed to stay under twenty dollars, but I had to really shop the specials. Mother helped out by giving me a dozen eggs, so we may have even come out a little ahead!
A couple of days later, I got the good news! I won! I won! I’d never won anything before. My win including having my prize hauled to the farm of my choice. Since I had no farm, Daddy said my cow could board with him, a fine, generous offer. As I gloated in my victory, I got another call. Tragedy! Bossy had jumped out of the truck and was lying on the road with a broken leg, getting ready to become hamburger. Fortunately for me, Farmer Brown, the original heifer donor was kind enough to put her out of her misery, scoop her up tenderly with his backhoe, haul her to the meat processing plant, and pay for her transformation into over five hundred pounds of steaks, brisket, roasts, stew meat, and hamburger. I loved Bossy so much.