It was pert dern clear that this here was gon’ be Dooley’s last rodeo, and we seen it right from the start a the competition, the way he was movin’ an’ all. Stiff an’ sore, like he’d a-got rocks in his boots, though some said a-load in his britches.

            Could see it in his hips, the way he was sorta havin' to lift up his leg and swang it ‘round with each step, then kinda leanin' hard to lift up and swang t'other 'round.

            Saw it in Charly, too, especially clamberin' down from Dooley’s old dually's back seat like he ain’t never seen down before, like the ground’s a long-ass way away. But we saw it mostest when Dooley be helpin' Charly back up there, havin' to push him from behind like that and all.

            But they was game. Always was. An' they was brangin' it the first two days, Charly more than holdin' his own in the Humming. But, then, he'd-a-always been a good Hummer. Kinda low and grumbly at first, then a-movin' up high like that, almost to his Screeching range. Almost kinda like his younger days.

            Naw, his humming always win. Got the ribbons 'round his neck and the trophies to prove it. Won 'er this time, too.

            But like we saw, they's both gettin' up there, and we was wonderin' if this'n be their last rodeo. Getting a little long in the tooth for all that driving an' sleeping in a trailer in all kindsa weather, and all.

            Some of us think that's what musta tired Charly out. Looked kinda hang-dog when he was arrived, too. We saw that. Which might go t'expainin' why he weren't there for the Clucking or Screeching, skippin' the first rounds entirely. Some of us thought he mighta been savin' it up for the Screaming, but those of us been around knowed it was gon' all come down to the Spitting. Best spitter in five counties. An' if he's a-goin' out, might well be on the Spitting. That's for sure.

            Time was Charly was winning so much 'cause there weren't no good spitters 'round, least not as good as him. But some of these young folks, all into the wool and the sweaters and scarves and shit, all that movin' to the country with their Volvo station wagons and Wellington boots an' all -- they'd just a-soon raise 'em for spitting as for that wool, branging city folks to their little stores, an' Volvo and electric-car-families comin' takin' day trips from the city, like our farms is zoos, or something.

            But Charly took Spitting. Knowed he would. We all did. But watchin' Dooley hafat lift ol' Charley into the back seat a-his dually? We knowed it were the last. An' we all got kinda quiet an' a-stood there a minute outta respect for the lasta the good ones.

            The lasta the good ol' boys like Dooley an' his champion alpaca Charly.

  From Julia Berger:

CLICK THE PLAY BUTTON

From Milly Mahoney-Dell'Aquila:

From Milly Mahoney-Dell'Aquila: