(Note: On occasion Baxter’s dogs take over his column. Yes, they can type. 60 words a minute, give or take a minute, and use the spell checker.)

By the way of introduction, let me say that I, Pancho Villa de Perro Valiente, am the new head of Ranch Security at the Black Rancho on Red Chili Road. I come from a long line of Australian Shepherd cowdogs and I am assisted by Hattie, hoof eater and Blue Heeler cross. You may be under the illusion that B. Black, cowboy poet, is an expert at ranching, an accomplished veterinarian and an equestrian authority. It is only true in the sense that the Montreal Expos claim to be a professional baseball team and that Cuba is considered a super power.

I admit Hattie and I like it when he shoes the horses. Lots of good nibblin’s. Normally you wouldn’t associate so much blood with farriery but ‘cut to the quick’ Black likes to get his money’s worth. He only shoes his horses, not other peoples’. It is a practical decision, most people can’t afford to have ‘em lame that long.

We go with him to check his cows – 15 head in two sections. You’d think after four years of checkin’ the same arroyos and mesquite thickets he’d know where to look. No way, he wakes up in a new world every day. It’s easier to follow the migration path of the bovine lungworm than to stay with him on a circle. And since he can’t tell the cows apart he counts the same one three or four times. Management material, he ain’t.

He and Francisco went to Gerald’s brandin’ last month, wouldn’t let us go, the rat bag. Francisco told us later Gerald let him drag calves to the fire. I said, sarcastically, “you mean, ‘calf’ to the fire.” Francisco said, “No, calves. He caught two, at the same time. One around the neck and the other around the front foot.” Not bad for an hour’s work.

One of the highlights of bein’ Bumbling Black’s dogs is the leftovers; quail innards, calf testicles, hoof trimmings, lizard tails, snake heads, cow horns, goldfish (from his tank maintenance program) and molasses from the tub feeder.

As to his veterinary skills, I am thankful that he takes me and Hattie to Dr. Leverance. Hattie got snakebit again and I ate a box of D-Con–I know, but I just can’t resist. She’s saved us both more than once. Dr. “Ha Ha” Black did treat Chaco, his left-handed rope horse. He mostly did nuthin’ so Chaco got well in spite of him.

It‘s not a bad life out here in rough country. We spend alot of quality time keepin’ the birds off the bird feeder, barkin’ at the coyotes and javelina or just trackin’ ol Bax around the place. Talk about a migrating lungworm, he’s got unfinished projects scattered from the water trap to the sand pile. Never gets anything finished. Right now he’s replanting some Bougainvillea in front of his shop. Poor fool. Oh, well. It’ll only take me five minutes to dig ‘em up again.

That’s it for now. Vaya con huesos.

Pancho Villa and Hattie

At the Black Ranch down on the border.