Thunder Butte

October 06, 2005

A Gentle Old Cow

When I was still very young—pre-school—I used to hate the evenings when my parents would go to the lower corral to milk the cows. Night after night, I would stand and shiver with the cold, bored and miserable.

One night, when they were finished milking one old cow, she went off to a corner of the pen and lay down. I walked around her, and petted her. She paid no attention to me. So, I sat down next to her belly, inside her crossed legs. It was so warm and cozy there that, soon, I slid down and fell into a sound sleep.

From then on, every night when my parents started milking, I would find a gentle old cow, curl up between her legs and her belly, and sleep soundly. Since they didn’t have to listen to my whining, I guess my parents were all for it.

--John Crowley
Mike Crowley Thursday, October 06, 2005


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