I Love Cows

Wednesday, August 5, 2015

Today I am grateful for cows. A friend of mine tagged me in a post with a picture of a euphoric cow running through a field and the caption was. . .”Live Life. . .like someone left the gate open.” I love that. But there is a story about why he specifically sent it to me. Ah. . .there is always a story!

Probably around 25 years ago, before my kids were out of the nest, when I still lived in the big house, on the big property, with acreage and the pool and four cats and two dogs, things were hectic. No, duh! I have no clue which dog it was, or why, but one of them had to be left at the vet overnight. With the leash next to me on the passenger seat, I was buzzing up and down the Pennsylvania hills on my way to get him when I saw something that reminded me of my childhood.

A cow. Not a full grown cow, but rather a bigger calf, not yet heifer, standing in the middle of the road at the bottom of a steep hill. Oh crap. Like I have time for a cow in the road? She’s going to get hit by a car coming over that hill. Then I saw the mom mooing her brains out on the other side of the fence. Oh geeze. Her baby is in jeopardy. Now I’m involved.

My grandparents had a farm in Wisconsin. I was familiar with cows to some degree. As a kid I always wanted a horse, but never got one so I would try to ride the cows. FYI-They don’t like it. So they don’t move. They just stand there, turn their big heads, chew their cud, lick their snouts and don’t take one step. Cow sitting is not the same as horseback riding! I used to call the cows in for milking in the afternoons, each one lining up in their stall like lemmings going off a cliff. “Here Bossie! Here Bossie!” grandpa and I yelled. They were obedient, calm and friendly.

So when I saw a cow standing in the middle of the road I developed a plan to “save” it.

I didn’t have a long rope, but I had a short leash. Parking nearly in the ditch, I grabbed that leash and hopped out of the car. “Here Bossie! Here Bossie!” Apparently it wasn’t called “Bossie” and took off running the other way. I don’t run. But I did.

I finally managed to throw the leash around its neck and tried to drag it towards the small opening in the fence that it must have escaped from. I might as well have been trying to ride it. Nothing. Just stood there like a statue. Mom mooing curse words at me from the other side of the fence and giving me hate stares. “I’m trying to help, old girl,” I told her, but I don’t think either of them spoke English.

Then the calf started to move. Fast. Even calves are much stronger than you can imagine so don’t try this at home! It nearly knocked me over, dragging me along much faster than I move, until the leash finally undid itself. Unwilling to totally give up, I waved the leash, shushing, clicking and go bossieing the calf towards the opening in the fence.

It was at this point that one of my friends drove down the hill from the other direction, leaned his head out the truck window and said, “What the. . .? You didn’t have anything to do today so you decided to take your cow for a walk?” He helped me get the buggery baby back inside.

Mom was happy. The calf was happy. I was happy. My friend and I have a story to tell forever . . .and I still love cows. Just not in the middle of the road!

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