The farmer
awoke and was immediately aware of the painful tingling in his hands
that were tied behind his back. The room smelled of manure and cigar
smoke. Across the room she stood- a black and white
The cow finally left the den, giving the farmer an opportunity
to try to free himself from his binds. His hands and legs tied, he
awkwardly made his way toward the desk and managed to knock a letter
opener from the desktop to the floor. As he worked, he thought about
the cow, and wondered what had lead to her discontent. Had he crossed
this cow in some way? He had 44
After several hours he managed to free
himself. He rose and set the letter opener on the desk. The idea occurred
to him that it might be better to hold on to it to use as a weapon,
but decided against it. A letter opener wasn’t going to do much good
against a 1,200 pound cow, especially one this mad.
He tried the door
and was relieved to find it unlocked. He opened it slowly and peered
out into the dark hallway- no sign of the cow. He tiptoed to the kitchen
and eyed the knife holder on the counter, pulling out a large butcher
knife.
As he turned to leave, he noticed his hands were shaking. He
thought for a moment, this might not be such a good idea. He could
easily slip out the back door and get help from the authorities, but
he quickly decided against it. It was a matter of pride. If word got
out that he let one of his cows get the best of him, he would never
be able to live it down. Dairy farmers were a catty bunch.
He exited
the kitchen and crept toward the living room where he thought he heard
a noise. He peered around the corner and spotted the cow. She was
seated on the couch with her back to him, a half-emptied bottle of
12 year-old scotch next to her on the end table. On the other side
of the couch the farmer’s antique victrola played softly. It was one
thing to raid his stash of Cubans and high-end liquor. But the thought
of the cow’s dirty hooves on his vintage 78 collection was too much
to bear, and hardened his resolve.
He focused on the cow, she was strangely
still, her head hanging down with her shoulders slumped. He slowly
made his way toward the front of the couch, stopping a few feet away
from the cow. When she looked up the farmer knew he was no longer
dealing with a mad cow. Her facial expression was that of a sad cow,
a very sad cow. She hung her head back down, and the farmer set down
the knife on the coffee table, taking a seat in the chair opposite
the cow. The farmer knew the cow was no longer a threat. And to a
certain extent the farmer understood the cow’s sadness. He himself
had spent many a late night on the same couch, drinking the same Scotch,
listening to the same Billie Holiday records, ruminating.
The cow’s
sadness was an existential sadness, beyond reprieve from bovine Prozac.
The cow knew she was an exceptional cow, possibly soaring higher than
any cow ever had. But with her gifts came self-awareness. And the
realization that no matter what, at the end of the day- even an extraordinary
day such as this- she would still be a cow. A cow with hooves without
opposable thumbs, four stomachs, and a brain the size of a lemon (or
perhaps a grapefruit, in the case of cow #29). She now accepted this,
and all that her life would be- an endless cycle of rumination, defecation,
insemination, gestation and lactation. And eventually the unavoidable:
hamburgerfication.
The record ended, but continued to spin, the needle
producing a rhythmic scratching. The cow again looked up at the farmer.
She took a deep breath and let out an audible sigh. She began to rise
from the couch and the farmer rose with her, gently reaching out for
her elbow to steady her as she swayed. The cow brushed his hand away
and was able to steady herself on her hind legs. She then dropped
down on all fours and headed for the door. She stopped and turned
her gaze toward the farmer. He realized she wanted him to open it
for her. The farmer complied, and he watched the cow slowly return
to the herd as the sun set in the distance.
Author’s Bio: I'm
42 years old, from
Here's a link to where I post my art: http://www.flickr.com/photos/twistedpoodleart/
