My neighbors are a bunch of cows.
I’m not even kidding. They truly are cows. There’s no beating around the bush. There’s no other way to describe them. They’re cows, plain and simple.
Brown cows, white cows, black cows. Brahman cows, Angus cows, Fighting Bull cows.
Cows with spots and a cow with… humps?
Maybe that one is some weird breed of horse. Or donkey.
Almost one year after arriving in No Man’s Land, I still know next to nothing about animals. Or farms. Or anything remotely country-related in general, for that matter.
Except for hay barrels. Those things are fairly self-explanatory. I mean, it’s barrel-shaped hay. Even I can figure that out.
Sadly, the only reason I even know for certain that those animals two blocks down the road from me are actually cows is because I asked my friend Michelle for confirmation.
To add insult to injury, I’m a vegetarian. So not only do I have cows for neighbors, I am also frequently forced to think about these poor cows’ sad existence.
Suffice it to say, I would highly prefer to not think about the fact that I’m driving past a field of somebody’s dinner tonight.
But I always console myself with the knowledge that most people have only “hunted” for their beef in the meat department of their local grocery store.
That makes it a bit easier for me to look these cows in the eyes.
And when I do gaze at the cows, I can’t help but wonder how in the world the notion of milking cows ever came about.
Did some drunken dude wander over to a random cow in the field during the middle of the night, thinking to himself, Hey, I wonder what this here fine animal got in his bladder? Well, don’t matter, ‘cause I’m thirsty, and whatever comes out of it, I’m gonna drink!
Yikes.
I don’t want to think about cows anymore. And after that line of thinking, I’ll never be able to look at them the same way.
Oh, and for the record, I do have real neighbors. They’re very nice, but I think they’re getting tired of being pelted by our stray baseballs while they’re out on their patio relaxing and drinking iced tea.
The cows, for their part, don’t seems to have any complaints.
Actually that’s either a steer or a bull. I can’t quite see all the parts to tell you one way or another. Just don’t try to milk that bladder.
:0
Thanks for the smile today.
LikeLiked by 1 person
While I obviously have no clue what exactly that is, I can assure you I won’t be attempting to milk any part of any cattle-like creature any time in this lifetime. 😛
LikeLiked by 1 person
haha too funny
LikeLike