My oldest daughter likes cows. A lot.
It all started with this beautiful girl, Faith (the cow, not the child). Then she had a cute, little bull-calf named Henry. We changed Henry’s identity from “bull” to “steer” with a rubber-band.
“El Toro no mas.”
That’s what our vet said.
He grew up, got
playful mean, tried to kill my small children, and now he is in the freezer.
Once Henry was gone, milking began to take over my life, so we decided to get another baby cow to help us with the milking.
Crumple is not like Henry. Henry was playful. Crumple is tired. Henry was bouncy. Crumple is asleep.
Henry practiced his ramming skills on 4-wheelers, buildings, wagons or anything else that happened to be in his field. Crumple doesn’t have any ramming skills. Henry charged anything colorful. Crumple doesn’t get up unless you have food. Henry came running whenever he saw us. Crumple is unconscious.
We have decided that Brown Swiss cows are the Basset Hounds of the Cattle world. Laid back, mellow, fatigued……. asleep. At least, our’s is.
Snuggly, fuzzy, sweet, sweet, baby cow.
I think this one’s going to be harder to part with. 🙁
Maybe we’ll keep him. He can just be the family dog that doesn’t smell like Fritos.
Would you like to see what this child’s room looks like?
It’s no secret that she has an obsession with 800 pound, milk-producing, bovine pets. Everyone who knows her seems resolved to ensure she owns every stuffed cow on planet earth. Not to mention, anything else that happens to be cow-print.
Even a little, pink cow and a polka-dotted milk jug.
Pretty soon she’s going to have to find somewhere to sleep because of the cow domination that is taking over her room. They’re like rabbits except black and white and not small.
Even her wall decorations have cows.
This is what she has on top of her book shelf. I’m not sure if I believe it……
She loves cows.
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