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Sometimes I worry about Shirley. Well, I’ve always worried about her.

Do you remember about fifteen years ago when the bull nearly got her? She walked into a pen very nonchalantly, like the Queen she really is. And this bad bull took after her. It chased her up a fence and she got her coveralls hooked on a nail. The bull had her. I mean he had her nailed to the fence. And he must have realized who she was. That bull just stood there pawing and bellering and blowing snot on her south end! I shouldn’t have laughed.

Then there was the time where she kind of drifted off and walked into a pe...


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