Yesterday I mentioned the stressful angst of my weekend, but heck, that was just a minor diversion. I am sure you know how it is. Life is funny at times… Or perhaps not. We live in happiness and then suddenly we are swamped with stress, but that’s not enough because the God’s are crazy, they like to add stress to your stress. I’ve mentioned before, Taylor (Dr. Ben Dover), is what I’d call a “gentleman farmer” in that he keeps cows. (I know! Kismet!) There are about a dozen who wander and graze in the south pasture that runs along the house. Though, I’ve a suspicion, knowing my inclination to name them, he keeps the “working” ranch in the North forty acres. These cows, MY cows, they each have unique personalities. My first experience was with a black and white spotted cow. She wandered up while I was floating aimlessly in the backyard pool. Standing regally studying me, never letting me “pet” her, the name Madame Isabelle just fit. One, a black bull “sings” rather loudly in a donkey-ish bray as he waddles towards the water trough. It’s a rather loud racket so nothing short of Broadway Joe would work for him. My fave cow of all though is How Now Brown Cow. She lets me feed her carrots and scritch her between the horns. The thing is, cows have loooong scratchy tongues and when she’s reaching for carrots with it she often misses the carrot and licks me instead.
Oh wait, we were talking about stress, I digressed. Once a year in the Fall, when the weather tames down just enough to be tolerable, Taylor has a “barn dance” for a few hundred of his neighbors and friends. It was a lovely night, hot but the wind moved the heat about nicely enough. He set up a couple of “porta-potties” about 200 yards from the barn under a copse of trees to keep the crowd from wandering through the house. As is the way, midway through the evening I wandered to the loo (luckily sans-spanx) and while in there I heard a snuffling outside. Quickly finishing, skirt neatly tucked up in my panties without realizing it (what female hasn’t done this?) I wander out to see Brown Cow has somehow escaped her confinement from the West cross fenced pasture. It’s only about 300 yards away so I decide to put her back in. It was a dark night, darker than I realized when I moved away from the barn lights, with only a sliver of silvery moon and a sparkle of light from the stars to mark our way, this friend and I on a leisurely stroll. Her in hoof, me in expensive three inch stiletto, her chuff chuffing, me sinking two inches into the Florida sand, me and Brown, Thelma and Louise, two besty’s on the run, at a very slow amble. Yeah, this can’t end well. About 15 yards from the cross fence, Brown Cow takes a big sandpapery lick of the exposed back of my thigh, I jump, and just as I put my foot back down it lands in a fresh “cow pie” and slides out from under me plopping me down onto the soft grass.. and pie. I lie there a few seconds trying to get my bearings, the God’s sliver of moon rising above me, the laughing twinkling of a star-filled sky bedecked in brilliance, the cicada’s shattering the still with their shrill music, the far off tinkling of laughter and a soft Barry White seducing the heartstrings, and me. Oh and Brown Cow. Thelma and Louise. Two besty’s at a standstill. I think a minute; I can still get Brown Cow penned, sneak in the back door clean up and change into a dress so similar to this one no one will know anything ever happened. I’m crafty that way. The thought no sooner leaving my head when Brown Cow, offering encouragement, leans down and gives my styled that-very-day-at-the-hair-salon hair a big huge wet sandpapered tongue swirly making my bangs stand proud and wet pointing to the North star.
Yeah, that’s a humdinger even I have a hard time believing. If it hadn’t happened to me, that is. See? And you thought your life is stressful, you should be happy in the knowledge you don’t live the Life of Cao. But that’s just my side of the story, you can ask Brown Cow about it but last I checked she wasn’t talking.