In Tucumcari we had a huge feed company/feed store and tack shop called Worley Mills. I was there a lot! It was kind of out of town and my Dad was friends with the owners - we had the newspaper there, the Tucumcari News. I had just established Fox Fire Stable and was getting known in the area. I had gone to Worley Mills with some brochures and cards, visited with the people at the counter and was at the back of the store looking at halters when a cowboy came in. He tipped his hat toward me and I nodded. I watched him move, slightly limping, to the cattle prods on one wall beside multi-colored plastic tags and odd metal clamps and chalk, etc. I watched because he was kinda cute - he brought one of the prods down from its hook, looked at the end of it carefully, then pushed on it with his hand. ZAP, I heard it shock him - he fell back and ended up on the floor on his, um, bottom! I looked away quickly, grabbed a halter to pretend to examine. THEN, he picked the prod up from the floor, looked at the end of it and pushed on it again! On the floor for a second time, he seemed dazed - the girl behind the counter came running to help him up. I got out of the store and to my truck quickly - it was just too humiliating to witness if he was gonna zap himself a third time! You know, "cute is as cute does", or something like that.
