For the last month or so, we’ve been feeding one of our cows a generous portion of grain to fatten her up for a trip to the butcher. We decided we shouldn’t mention the word “butcher” to her, but tell her she would be taking a trip to the beauty parlor instead. So last week the date finally arrived for her to get her hair and nails done, so to speak. Harland loaded her onto the stock trailer and drove her to town. He arrived at the butcher before they opened, but they had told him earlier to just drop her off into a specified pen. So he did that and then headed back home. Later that morning I received an email at work from Harland:
Cows have a good memory, and so we’re hoping we won’t have any trouble taking her back to the butcher. I don’t know…….
See that look in her eye?
She’s onto us now.