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Remembering My Grandfather and the Sale Barn

            It was warm and sunny afternoon in the month of July. My grandpa loaded me up in his beat up Chevrolet. I asked grandpa where we were headed to. He told me that I would find out soon enough. I sat with my chin propped up on the edge of the dashboard. I was like a little puppy waiting in anticipation for my owner to give me a rawhide bone. After a thirty minute drive, I was about ready to burst at the seam due to pure curiosity. Suddenly, I felt my grandpa's truck jerk to a stop. He placed his hand upon my shoulder and turned toward me. "We're here", he said. As those words hit my ear, a wave of relief washed over me. I was finally able to see this mystery place that grandpa had taken me. I poked my head out of the window and realized we were at the sale barn. That was the day I realized that the sale barn was the most amazing place I had ever seen in my entire life.
             As we stepped out of the truck, a distinct smell filled my nostrils all at once. It was smell like no other. Most people would say that smell repulsed them, but I grew to actually like it. The smell of dirt was the smell that I most remember. It was the type of smell that hit your nose and made you want to sneeze. As we walked up to the sale barn, another distinct smell hit me like a ton of bricks. It was the clear smell of manure. It was the type of smell that stayed with me even on the car ride home. However, once I stayed at the sale barn for some time, the smell subsided. My grandpa took me by the hand and pulled me into the sale barn. The sounds of chaos hit me all at once. The first thing I heard was the shuffling of boots against the ground. The second thing I heard were the men and woman chatting loudly about the different animals. However, the loudest sound I heard in the barn that day was the crying of the different animals. The horses neighed, the pigs oinked, and the cows mooed as we passed each of their holding pin.


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