And Cows

I have a love-hate relationship with cows. I love that they provide me with milk for my cereal, but on the other hand, I don’t trust them. This is problematic because they are everywhere on the farm I am working and give us girls a hard time when we want to lay down in the sun as we must first shoo them away. This is intimidating because these cows have big horns. I am fairly certain our moo-cows back home don’t have horns. Anyways, the other day I walked toward them and they backed off. I then unraveled our blanket in the air to put it on the ground and they all moved. “Oh crap” I immediately thought to myself, Matador Cassie might as well beg them to charge, but I dodged the bullet that time. Of course, then once we are lying there, I am never fully relaxed. I always have this sneaking suspicion they are plotting something. “They’re surrounding us!” I told My and to my surprise she was not alarmed. I look around and stare at the closest one in the eyes and tell My “death by cow is not a way I want to go.” As I continue to tell her how I would hope my parents would have enough sense to lie and not put ‘death by cow” on my obituary if I succumb to a stampede, I continue staring at it. I tell the cow in my head, “I know you’re up to something” and it continues to stare at me, then lifts its tail and plops a big one right close to our blanket which is soon swarming with flies. Touche moo-cow, touché.