I have never been able to save the best for last. So here we go, my all time favorite Grandma Story's Story! I remember Grandma telling me this story as a little girl. I heard it so often, I could see it in my head. I loved her spunk and determination. My dream is to one day make a children's book out of this story, illustrated and all. Grandma's dream was to be a published writer and I want to fulfill it for her. But until then, I just have to share it!
A HIT PARADE by Leah Story
When I was a little past three years old, I was sitting at our big old oil-cloth covered kitchen table eating a bowl of Germade cereal. My father came in from out-doors and began talking to my mother. "Old Whitey has eight new little pigs, all white ones but one. He is rust colored, and Old Whitey won't let him nurse." Mother spoke in a troubled tone of voice, "Oh, dear, the poor little thing. We must feed him with a bottle." Father sighed and told mother, "I've tried that, but that stubborn little rascal won't drink a drop from the bottle." Mother got tears in her eyes and said, "O dear, then he will die, won't he?" "I'm afraid so," Father said as he sat down at the table to eat his breakfast of ham and eggs. I looked at my bowl of Germade and quietly picked it up and went out-side to where Father had the little pig resting in a box lined with a piece of old blanket. I looked down at the tiny rust colored pig. Then I set my bowl of cereal down on the ground and went over to the nearby cotton-wood tree. I broke off a small branch, and pulled all the leaves off of it and went back to the box. I picked up Little Pig and stood him on his feet in front of my bowl of cereal. I let him smell the cereal, and then I pushed his nose down into it for a second, but Little Pig wouldn't eat any of the cereal. "Little Pig, you gotta' eat!" I told him, and picked up my willow. I pushed his nose into the cereal again, but still Little Pig wouldn't eat. I whacked him across the nose and said more firmly "Eat!" I pushed his nose into the cereal and held it there. Well, believe it or not, that little pig decided he better mind me, and so he ate some of the cereal from my bowl. Father and Mother stood near by, trying not to interfere, but they couldn't help laughing. Little Pig became my constant companion, following me everywhere except into the house. Mother would not allow a pig, not even Little Pig in the house.
After such miraculous results with my first willow experience, it is not surprising that I took a willow with me almost everywhere I went. So when I was given the chore of taking the cows to and from the pasture I always had a willow in my hand. The time I turned sixteen, I had been very ill with phenomena and had been cooped up in the house for several weeks, and at last was allowed to take on my chore of taking the cows to the pasture. It seemed so good to be out in Nature's beautiful living room. I opened the big pole gate for the cows to walk through on their way to the pasture. While I waited, I stood behind the gate to our neighbor's alfalfa field, which had a barbed wire fence all around it. I was looking at the picture the mountains some distance away made, when all of a sudden I felt myself and the gate being pushed against the barb-wire fence. I quickly looked to see what was happening, and there, was a bull with sharp long horns pushing against the gate, his horns bruising and pinching my legs. I looked angrily at him and said, "You stop that!" and hit him a whack across the nose. Well, that bull let out a screeching bellow and ran up the hill as fast as he could go! Father was running towards me with an axe in his hand. When he looked at the bull running up the hill, he laughed and laughed, and said, "Girl, what you do with a willow, no one would believe!"
