Weekly Posting of the Conservative Cow Doctor

 

Gus

“You only get one good dog in your lifetime,” Steve said matter-of-factly. Mine was Gus.

I acquired Gus about the same time I purchased our family homestead in Wyoming. If I was back in the cow business it was only fitting I have a cow dog, so I searched the classifieds of Agri-News and picked Gus from a litter in Fergus County.

Just like everyone’s dog, Gus was the smartest thing around. As I spent 90 percent of my time as a veterinarian and only 10 percent as a cowboy, Gus was more of a veterinary assistant than a cow dog. Oh sure, he could chase cows out of the timber, but as far as he was concerned, his main purpose in life was just riding along in the cab of my pickup on farm calls. It didn’t matter if it was three in the afternoon or three in the morning, he was just happy to go. I miss that dog.

Again, just like everyone’s dog, Gus had one drawback; he was a fear-biter. He was strongly bonded to me, my family, my staff, everyone he recognized, and small children; it was the other 99 percent of Yellowstone County he didn’t particularly care for. As veterinary medicine operates on free-market principles and hasn’t been infected with government programs like Medicare and Medicaid, veterinarians have direct responsibility to the person that is requesting our service and paying the bill. Gus never understood that and he indiscriminately bit both friend and foe.

One cold November morning, Gus and I headed out to preg-check a small herd of cows. As happens occasionally, farmer Frank was ready for me, if you consider “the cows are just down in the meadow; it will only take a couple minutes to gather them,” as being ready. With no other option and a very tight schedule, Gus and I drove through the corral into the meadow to begin gathering cows. I circled to the far end and started these Limousine mommas up the draw toward the barn. They were a high-headed bunch unaccustomed to cow dogs, so I told Gus to stay in the pickup.

About the third time the cows ducked the gate and sucked back down the brushy draw, I abandoned my pickup and took off on foot. (This was another of the times where I was glad I was a runner.) On the fourth pass, the leads took the gate and ran into the corral.

Glancing at my watch I thought, “I can get back on schedule if I hustle.” I looked a half-mile down the meadow to where Gus and my pickup were parked and spotted farmer Frank walking towards the driver’s door. He intended to drive my pickup to the corral. I understood that; Gus didn’t.

Frank jerked the door open, jumped behind the wheel, and then slammed the door. In the split-second it would take a 30 pound Australian Shepherd to jump from the back seat to the front seat, Frank kicked the door open, and jumped back out in the meadow. Frank momentarily stared in the cab and then very cautiously eased behind the wheel. Although the distance was too great for me to hear all he was saying, I think Frank was sweet talking Gus in a manner typically reserved for his trophy wife. With the pickup door wide open, his right butt cheek in the driver’s seat and his left cheek suspended in mid air, Frank slowly drove up the meadow. Gus sat in the passenger seat, stared at Frank, and grinned. He loved being a veterinary assistant.

I told you that dog biting story to make the analogy to another dog story; the blue-dog Democrat. I have heard folklore about the existence of conservative blue-dog Democrats, but after serving two legislative sessions I think they are a hoax similar to Bigfoot in the Pacific Northwest, or the Little People of Montana’s Pryor Mountains. Just as Gus was programmed as a fear-biter, politicians on the left side of the aisle are programmed to advance socialism. It is as simple at that.

Today, the socialists (although they prefer to call themselves “progressives”) control the Whitehouse; they have a 30 vote majority in the House and a filibuster proof 61 votes in the Senate. Misdirected by hope and change, America is about to be swept out to sea by the socialist tsunami of Obama-Care and Cap-and-Trade regulation.

Both these bills, just like every socialist program since 1937, have the common thread of instituting massive tax increases on America’s workers and redistributing those dollars to those who chose dependency over self-reliance. That is a fact. As tax increases consume business profits, unemployment will skyrocket creating even greater dependency on government aid. That too, is a fact.

Freedom loving Americans can call, write, fax, or e-mail your disapproval to your Congressman or Senator but your pleas will fall on deaf ears. Montana’s Senators are pro-gun, blue-dogs only in the six months preceding an election and both their re-elections are in the distant future. You can no more expect them or other blue-dogs to break party ranks and vote these socialist policies down than you could expect Gus to welcome a stranger behind the steering wheel of his pickup.

The solution, my freedom loving friends, lies with you. It will be your state senator or representative that will carry the state’s rights banner into the battle to nullify this unconstitutional reach of the federal government. If your district has solid conservative representation, then help your neighbor throw his progressive legislator into the political dumpster. (That sounds harsh, but that is exactly what the progressives are attempting to do to conservatives.) You be the one that makes the difference!



 
 
 
 
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