Between the Cows and Me, Again (Part 1)

My neighbor’s cows are trying to kill me.  I suppose I shouldn’t have insinuated that they had no ambition, but in my defense, they’re cows.  Also I didn’t anticipate that the ambition they developed would be murderous.

In the event that you haven’t guess this yet:  I have a story to tell.

It started as a peaceful afternoon; our toddler was napping.  With our particular toddler, who’s far too energetic to submit without protest to tortures like rest, you might say that it was an unusually peaceful afternoon.  I was sitting in my favorite spot, fiddling on my computer, which is one of my favorite activities.  My wife was reclining on the couch beside me, trying to take a nap, which is something she actually resists as much as our daughter.  It was almost idyllic.

Then we heard a loud moo.

I adore my daughter and appreciate her vitality, but since I don’t share it, I get a bit twitchy when she sleeps.  There’s the constant danger that it’s just a short-lived fantasy, that she might wake up and demand the freedom to be rambunctious again before I’ve recovered from the last time.  Being twitchy inspires strange concerns.

As a relevant example, I was suddenly concerned that my daughter was awake and mooing loudly.  (If you knew my daughter, this might seem more reasonable.)  I didn’t want to go to her room to check on her though, because sometimes checking becomes the very trigger that awakens her.  Instead I thought I’d make certain that the sound hadn’t come from the other obvious possible source.  I asked my wife, “Was that you?”

Just so we’re clear on how wonderful a parent I am, I heard a loud and unexpected animal noise that seemed to come from inside my house, but my first reaction can be effectively described as a version of the prayer, “Sweet merciful Father in Heaven, please don’t let my daughter be awake yet!”  Then, just so we’re clear about how wonderful a husband I am, my next reaction seemed to rely on the assumption that my wife is a cow, or at least likes to imitate them sometimes.

Naturally she objected, and being the direct sort of woman that she is, she objected bluntly, “No.  That was a cow.”

A surprisingly long pause followed.

Illustrative Pause

Eventually our mighty intellects discerned that when my wife identified the source of the sound, she hadn’t resolved the mystery.  Why were we hearing a cow so clearly, and why did the sound seem to be coming from our kitchen?

To be continued….


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