I was looking at some old blog posts and found this one I wrote 9 years ago. Many of my readers today are not long time readers so because it made me giggle a little bit I thought I would re-post it with a few edits today. Enjoy.
Chris and I were talking on our long drive and Big Adventure the other day about things and people that we have experienced over the years. I have had a lot of experiences that some folks would think were the slightest bit interesting. I have shared with you before —my gift. The gift of mere strangers telling me the most intimate things about themselves. I guess I am approachable and appear non-judgmental or something–who knows? All I know is that it makes for some pretty fun conversations and scenarios at times. My friend, Jen, has told me that I am flypaper for odd. I like that and may have that put on my tombstone depending on how much it costs….
One thing that came up in conversation the other day during our marathon trek from Iowa to Ohio was about the sweet couple who I happened upon at a nursing home when I was doing a hospice visit. There were some goings ons in the activity room and that is where I found my lady that day. A couple was celebrating their 60th anniversary and they invited everyone who was on the floor down for cake and ice cream so of course I was in. I struck up a conversation with the wife of the couple and somehow we got on the conversation of the unusual pet they had—a buffalo named Custer.
Custer was bought on a whim from someone when he was just a young pup. I guess buffalos are not pups but you get the point. They got Custer when he was little. Custer joined them on their little acreage (that is what Iowans call a little farmette or a house with a little land) and grew to become quite a large specimen of a buffalo. Custer tended to get out of the fence and would wander away frequently. The wife would go find him, talk to him and then he would eventually follow her home. Custer got really big. Did I mention that before? At one point the meter reader decided enough was enough because Custer liked to hang out close to the house. A letter came in the mail with the instructions of how the occupants were now going to have to read their own meter and send it in to the company because of the buffalo in the yard.
Time went on and Custer got a little rambunctious. The fence could no longer keep him in. He was born to wander I guess and did it one time too often. Custer went to the locker. And when I say locker I do not mean a locker where you keep your notebooks and pencils. Poor Custer went to the meat locker. The wife said it was a little sad when she mowed after that because she always raked the sweet grass over into the fenced area where Custer was supposed to be —guess he had a sweet spot for newly mown grass. As we finished our conversation she said that she missed Custer but boy—-that was some good hamburger…