The tragic news hit us hard! Our good friend Hilow was dead. Mrs. Silvers had adopted him just two years ago. He died suddenly along the creek on the backside of the farm. 

Crusty and Buttface Johnson arrived at my house immediately upon being notified by accident on the party phone line. Mrs. Silvers requested our presence and we responding with appropriate attire. Dressed as cowboys (including chaps). Buttface wore his white extra fuzzy chaps... He always insisted on standing out from the normal cowboys. He sure did THAT!  

We jumped on our horses previously known as Schwinn bicycles. We had special names for them. Shwingomo, Shwinsenachwine and Shwinbignose. We saddled up and headed northwest to near Shepherds road. The Shepherd family had roads everywhere. We guessed they were early settlers…and great people. I think they invented Shepherds Pie.

We arrived at the farm within an hour. Mrs. Silver was standing outside the house holding three shovels. “I want him buried on the family place.”  We were initially shocked but good cowboys never argue with a grieving woman. He was our best friend and we were going to be proper friends the cowboy way. We found the body that had died the day before. He was inflated for some reason although it was 95 the day he went to heaven. Did I mention that Hilow was a great horse?  

We dug deep and wide in the prairie sand and with tears we drug him into the grave. He landed on his back with his legs sticking straight up above the ground. Buttface volunteered to loosen the legs by cranking back and forth on them. Crusty and I waited with shovel at the ready. We stood at the wrong end of Hilow. Each crank from Buttface produced a new and nauseating sound and scent which we initially thought came from Buttface... he had a history you know. After finishing our dry heaving we decided that it was just as honorable to leave the legs stick straight up above the dirt.

About 6 pm Mr. Silver came out in his truck and horse trailer to round us up and take us home. “Why the horse trailer? He’s already buried, Sir,” I sheepishly asked. Mr. Silver just smiled and said, “Load up cowboys, right into that trailer. You smell terrible and it’s only proper that I haul you back to town the cowboy way. Besides, this is a new truck and I don’t want dead horse stench in it.”  We all had to bathe in cold water from the garden hose when we arrived home. We never were allowed to wear our cowboy clothes until the next spring. They were a little faded. Winter is good for cowboy clothes. Hanging day and night on the clothesline eventually makes them smell almost pretty good. 

Every time I eat Shepherds pie I think about Hilow off of Shepherds Road. Wouldn’t any cowboy?

Hug your kids and encourage your neighbors to become cowboys.

– Nelly