Cows

A couple weeks ago, we rented a little cabin in Wisconsin near one of those towns that have equal amounts art galleries and dingy taverns. The place itself was lovely. Elijah and Luca got to see what life would be like if they discovered they were gay and fell into a lot of disposable income. Luca was particularly interested in their collection of antique top hats. I’m not sure if he was feeling any sexual preference or if he simply liked ridiculous things.

On our first night, we drove down their winding driveway past the cabin’s farm neighbors and we found ourselves surrounded by 20 or so cows, curious about who would pay the outrageous rent Air BNB was suggesting. Luca became obsessed with the animals and their sad lowing. It’s all he would talk about at dinner and throughout the next day.

It was refreshing to see a child who seemed to only exist to catch digital Pokemon actually take an interest in flesh and blood animals. Especially animals who provide us flesh and blood as food.

We asked the landlords if it was ok if we petted the cows. They gave us just enough permission not to be liable for damages if a bovine stepped on our throats. Satified, we strolled down the lane and leaned over the white picket fence overlooking a beautiful meadow.

Luca and Eli began shouting at the cows, aggressively. I explained that no cow would want to come visit two screaming children. Suddenly, we were surrounded by cows that were curious about two screaming children.

The first thing I noticed is cows are dis…gust..ing. They were covered in flies and boils and warts. Luca loved this and desperately wanted to pet them. The cows ducked from his hands because they think humans are dis…gust…ing.

But after a few minutes, they warmed up to us. They particularly liked it when Diana spoke to them like they were puppies. I channeled my farm bred youth and remembered cows like to lick humans. So I gave up my forearm for some sandpaper cow tongue. Luca immediately gave them names, against all rules of animal husbandry. The names included Brownie, Black and Whitey, Crazy Pants and Pikachu. The names also seemed to change from one minute to the next, which I’m sure confused them and will make for difficult trips to the DMV.

Eli, who was not interested in touching, smelling, or looking at cows, asked to go home. So Diana obliged, leaving Luca and I to hang for a few minutes more with the animals.

Suddenly, the cows put on a glorious show for us. Their bowels and bladders opened up and rained down some of the most horrifying things I have ever witnessed.

Luca was in near hysterics. “THEY! ARE! POOPING!”

Later at dinner, Luca described in great detail how a cow’s body works. I explained that this was pretty much how his body works, but in the end we agreed to disagree.