Ginnie told me to rent the metal detector again and search for the ring one more time before she bought me a new one. My 70th birthday was fast approaching and Ginnie was going to buy me a new wedding ring as a present. You may recall that Blossom, our Angus heifer calf, sucked the wedding ring off my finger. I figured scanning her pen again was useless, that there was no way I was going to find that wedding ring.
Several veterinarians had told me that, considering a cow has four stomachs, there was no way a small wedding ring was going to pass through. I would have to wait until slaughter and have the butcher find it.
For two months, I patiently and diligently, like a surgeon performing brain surgery, picked through Blossom?s cow pies with a trowel, hoping to uncover my wedding ring. I did this twice a day. Nada. I even prayed to St. Anthony, the patron saint of lost objects.
But I always do what Ginnie tells me (hardy har har). I bit the bullet, rented the metal detector again and gave it one more try. I wouldn?t pray this time. It would either be there or it wouldn?t.
Blossom was quite curious as to what I was doing. She came up behind me and nibbled at my shirttail, wanting attention.
The metal detector beeped. I grew hopeful and started digging with the trowel. The detector indicated the object was six inches deep. There was no way a ring was going to be embedded that deep. But I had to check it out. Digging a hole six inches deep in a dried up, tramped down, cow pen with a trowel isn?t easy. Blossom tried to suck on my elbow. I was sweating bullets. My trowel stuck something. My heart skipped a beat. I dug harder. A small chunk of pop-can aluminum appeared.
I continued the search. This was ridiculous and a waste of time. I could be mowing, picking tomatoes, updating my website, any one of a dozen jobs that needed to be done other than this. I might as well just call the jeweler and order another white gold wedding band and be done with it. 500 dollars ain?t nothing to sneeze at, but it is what it is.
One veterinarian told me that I should have Blossom X-rayed to find out where the ring was, then have it surgically removed. Yeah, right. What would a surgery cost compared to the price of a ring? But there was the sentimental value to consider. After all, the ring is a symbol of Ginnie?s and my love. I considered holding the metal detector up to Blossom, but she wouldn?t hold still. She gave me a little nudge in the rear. I shooed her away.
The metal detector beeped again. Great. What is it this time? Another pop can, a screw? The detector indicated the object was two inches deep. That?s not quite so bad. I dug. Nothing. I put the detector over the hole and it beeped again. I continued to dig. Blossom mooed in my ear splattering slobber all over me. Tick. My trowel struck something. I pried up. Bingo! The ring flipped into view. I couldn?t believe it. There it was, dirty, like it had been through... a cow? Yep. Dirt, crud and all, I put the ring on. My long lost friend had returned. My finger felt so much better. Our marriage was saved.
I took a picture of my hand with ring on and text it to Ginnie at work. She replied immediately. ?Told ya! Now what am I going to get you for your birthday??
Never, ever doubt your wife.
I checked our Scripture reading for the day. ?God works wonders! We are blessed!?
Have a good story? Call or text Curt Swarm in Mt. Pleasant at 319-217-0526, firstname.lastname@example.org or find him on Facebook.