silence

I have this strange quirk, well, I have many strange quirks, but there is one in particular I was thinking about. When I lay down to rest/sleep, my mind becomes suddenly very active. My thoughts flip around like an ADD 12-year-old boy with a remote control, and then I settle on some obscure channel I've never heard of. Eventually this renegade channel will lead me back to some memory. I'll keep the programming to myself, as you don't need to know what odd thoughts lurk in my head, but I will share the memory-which btw, has no discernible relation to the program, although it was triggered by said program.

{{{Seriously, if you have a weak stomach, don't read on}}}

I'm probably 12, it is the middle of winter. One of our old cows had slipped on some ice down in one of the draws and broken her hip. Dad and I drove the bumpy path through the frozen-over hay field in silence to where the cow lay sprawled in the snow next to the tree line. When we got there she was munching on some of the hay my dad had brought out to her for the last week. Dad told me to wait in the pickup while he tried to get her, one last time, to stand up. After several minutes of coaxing, pushing, and 'spooking', the old girl was still in the same position, with the same unconcerned look upon her frosty bovine face.

Dad stalked back to the truck and grabbed the sledge hammer from the back, looking a little more impassive than usual. I new what was coming but I couldn't tear my eyes away. My father drew back the sledge hammer, and swung for her forehead with his powerful arms. Before he struck I closed my eyes tightly. The loud, wet "Thock" echoed through the draw. I couldn't help but open my eyes again. Now was actually trying to get up but her paralyzed hind quarters kept her glued in place. Her now wide eyes rolled wildly as she struggled in pain away from the one inch deep circular dent in her skull. My dad drew the hammer back again. I shut my eyes again and tried to plug my ears against the second hit that sounded more like a "Crack" this time, closely followed by what was somewhere between a moo and a scream. And still another "crack", and another, and finally another. And dead silence. True 'dead' silence.

A few posts back, I discussed how I can't remember the sound of my dad's voice. Sadly, I can't forget the sound of that cow's death.