by Baxter Black, DVM
People ask where I got my mittens, my saddle blanket, my wild rag, my dog's muffler, my colorful selection of pot holders that hang in my tackroom. I always change the subject, but the time has come to confess. So there I was in the wilds of the high desert on a cow camp in the early fall, riding three young horses and checking' cows, water tanks and fence. Pretty tough livin' out here. My clothes didn't get washed much. My razor broke. I tried to wash up at the spring every week or two and brushed my teeth with bakin' soda and salt. I didn't have a toothbrush, of course, so I never got that tough gristle completely out. I tried to cut my own hair. Thank goodness I didn't have a mirror.
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