This weekend, for the first time since 1989, my veterinary practice will be doctorless. Laurel schools are out for four days, so Dr. Mark is taking his family to San Diego for some sand and theme-park therapy. His trip has been scheduled for months. I was planning on covering the weekend, but daughter Chelsie invited us to join her, Marcus and their four mini-Warners for a short ski and water-park vacation in Kellogg, Idaho. I have not seen these four grandkids since last July, so I am not letting this opportunity slip through my fingers.
I developed a cattle drive business in the 1990s. Twenty guests trailing 200 cows up the rugged Little Horn Canyon taught me to have absolute control of what I could control because surprises hid behind every rock. Before the first orientation ride, we explained proper saddling and unsaddling procedures. We stressed tying your bridle to the front saddle strings, neatly looping the latigo into the D-ring and tying the breast collar and cinches to the off-side saddle strings. Doing so served dual purposes.
If there was a vet school lecture on assessing health by nasal palpations, I slept through it. When a client informs me their dog, cow, cat or horse can or cannot be running a fever because “his nose is wet,” or “his nose is dry,” I quickly steer my examination to the rear end of the critter. The true indicator of body temperature lies under the tail. The rectal thermometer is a great diagnostic tool applicable to all animal species as well as politics, which is why I mention it here.
Montana Code is thousands of pages because even constitutionalists demand regulation when their ox is gored. For example, LC2196.01 is a bill draft prohibiting bicycles and pedestrians from traveling the 7600 miles of state highways lacking a paved shoulder. This safety proposal demonstrates “liberty for me, but not for thee,” syndrome as revealed in recent social media banter.
I gained expertise in meaningful Christmas presents after failing my first gift exchange with my trophy girlfriend. I was 16 years old and because I was raised with brothers plus boy cousins, choosing a girl gift was overwhelming. I frantically searched, but eventually gave up, hoping Christmas might escape her notice. It didn’t and she dumped me over the holidays.
This 75th anniversary of the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor is a real-life example of a human absolute. Once started, war continues until one side deprives the other of the will, manpower and/or material to engage in additional hostilities. Negotiating peace with an adversary still possessing the ability to fight only prolongs the engagement. This truth of warfare similarly applies to politics, but the battles are fought with ballots rather than bullets and progressives understand this absolute.
Progressivism was the biggest loser of this recent election, so now to the biggest winner. Contrary to what appears obvious, it is not Donald Trump. Yes, he became the president-elect with a whopping 306 electoral votes, but he is hardly the biggest winner. Think about it. Prior to filing for office, he owned a prosperous company, had successfully raised a herd of children who have given him, are giving him, and will give him a wagon load of grandchildren.
I sprinted from the bathroom towards the front door. “Wash your hands,” Mom demanded. I was far too busy digging foxholes in the Montana gumbo to explain the fallacy behind handwashing, but she demanded action.