My name is Sam. When I was a little boy, about eight years old, I started my own business. Growing up on a farm in the Heart of Dixie afforded me several opportunities to make money, and the venture I chose at age eight was milk goats. From a neighbor, I got a nanny goat and raised a herd of milk goats. As they got to producing milk, I started milking them and selling the milk.
It was the vogue back then to drink goat's milk for health reasons. Say you had ulcers, then the doctor would suggest you drink goat milk to soothe your stomach and ulcers. Some people just thought it was better and healthier than regular milk. Some folks never developed a taste for pasteurized milk, so this goat milk was a good alternative.
I had a very special nanny goat named Rosie that gave a lot of milk. I kept my customers supplied and happy with her milk and the customers even knew her name. She was gentle and good, never minded being milked and was playful.
Mr. Ralston, who lived about five miles away, was a barber who had developed a bad case of ulcers. One early Fall day, he came to the farm and asked me to supply him with goat's milk. From that day forward, he was a good customer. For over three years, I sold him milk.
Well, one day, Mr. Ralston was at the farm buying milk when he told me he was leaving to go home to Texas. And he wanted a big favor from me. He wanted to take Rosie with him. His request hit me pretty hard, as I had never even thought about selling Rosie. Sure, I had other milk goats, but none of them were as special to me as Rosie. Mr. Ralston saw I was a little upset and he put in to convince me to make the sale. Before long, I had agreed to have Rosie ready to leave the next week.
On Saturday of the next week, Mr. Ralston rolled up to the farm in his big black Packard automobile. Every single inch of space inside that car was filled with his worldly goods, and the rest were tied to the sides and rear and most of the top. He only had room to sit behind the steering wheel. Where in the world was he putting Rosie?
I stood there with Rosie beside me, holding the rose loosely in my hands, not knowing how I got in this jam. Why in the world had I done this?
Anyway, he got out of the car and handed me the money for Rosie. I handed him the rope. And of all things, he proceeded to put Rosie on top of the car!
I asked him if he was going to be able to drive with her on the roof. His reply was that goats had great ability to balance and she would be fine up there. My heart sank as he explained that to me, but I didn't do anything else. I just stood there in silence and wished I hadn't made the bargain.
The last I saw of Rosie, she was standing on the roof of the car as it crested the hill beyond the church and slowly sank from view on the other side. Would they ever get to Texas? I guessed I would never know.
One day a few weeks later, I got a letter in the mail. Never before had I gotten a letter from anyone. So I viewed it and held it a while before opening it. Mr. Ralston sand he and Rosie got to Texas, after many days of driving. Said he had driven quite slowly, about 20 miles per hour, and had encountered no problems. Rosie had adjusted to Texas and he had gone to work in another barber shop. Everything was settling down and he was glad to be back home in Texas. Said to stop by if I was ever out that way. Now, ain't that something!
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