Cowboy

A Chicago pal of mine bought a ranch out west in Durango, Colorado where
he intended to retire and raise some cattle, do some hunting and a bit
of fishing.

So after all his friends and family had visited, I took a trip out to
see it from Florida and to have a little R&R while checking out the
area.

I asked Jack if the ranch had a name. "Well," said my would-be-cowboy
friend, "I wanted to call it the Bar-JH. My wife Pat, favored the
Patsy-Q. One son liked the Flying-W, and the other son wanted the Lazy
-Y. So, we're calling it the Bar-JH-Patsy-Q-Flying-W-Lazy-Y ranch."

I had looked about the place, seen some deer in the woods, the out
buildings and a pasture with a bull, the barn with a few horses, but had
not come across any stock.

Later in the day, while enjoying a taste of some Jack Daniels at my
guest's well stocked bar, and relaxing in the nicely appointed main
house, I enquired, " Jack, I looked around but I haven't seen any of
your cattle?"

Jack took a big sip of his golden libation and moaned, "Well so far,
none of the damn cows have survived the branding."