A Very Short Story About The Mystical Intelligence Of Cows
I worked on a farm in high school. It had horses, chickens, cats, an adulterous farmer, and about fourteen cows.
One day, the farmer decided to sell one of our cows.
Here’s how he picked the one who would go. He stood at a distance from the herd and said, “Her,” pointing while their trusting backs were turned.
My boss then told me to drop some hay by the gate, so when the new owners arrived, we’d be able to walk right up to the feeding cows and rope the chosen one.
The moment I started slinging hay, the fourteen cows began moseying across the field for an easy meal.
I felt guilty.
I prayed the people wanted our cow so they could give their daughter a pet.
I prayed their daughter was a nice vegetarian child who wasn’t amassing a collection of leather.
Soon after our cows were at the hay, the people arrived. Their truck and trailer slogged through the muddy yard, which was always muddy, for the Lord was against my farmer.
He’d explained to me once why temptation was especially difficult for him:
“I have libido.”
I didn’t know what that meant. A disease? Maybe a chronic sleepwalking disorder. You wake up horrified to find yourself in motels having sex without your wife. Maybe it’s a condition where your waist is so narrow and your buttocks so slick that you just can’t keep your pants on.
I prayed to God I’d never catch libido.
The people got out of their truck and we all stood in a little gathering, watching the feeding cows. But…