Since moving into my new home in August, Alice and Arlo, my two dogs, have been enamored by the cows living in the pasture next to us. After 18 months calling a trailer park in the Mississippi Delta home, having a pasture to run in and cows for neighbors is enough to short circuit their fuzzy puppy brains. Many a weekend has been spent ignoring my increasingly aggravated cries to come back as they weave through the forest of bovine legs, roll in cow patties and snap at buzzing flies.
The pasture also has a half-dozen horses, but we don’t talk about those. Cows may be friends, but the dogs – Alice in particular – are terrified of their equestrian neighbors.
Initially, I was sure the cows would react unpleasantly toward the psychotically energetic advances of the dogs entreating them to play. I was, however, proven wrong. Sure, some of the cows stamp their hooves and shake their heads menacingly as the pups sprint toward the herd, but the vast majority match my dogs’ enthusiasm, bouncing and romping right along with them.
For the past three months, 5 p.m. has been “cow time,” the time of day the cow’s daily migration around their pasture brings them closest to the fence. The dogs know this, as do the cows. At 5 p.m. my peace of mind is shattered by both Alice and Arlo leaping on me to go outdoors and the cows mooing at the fence, calling for their friends to join them.
I’m not one to stand in the way of true friendship, so, without any aggression shown on either side, I have allowed my dogs to grow their relationship with their new neighbors. That may have proved a mistake.
This past weekend, rain and strong wind toppled a dead tree, which took with it a large section of the barbed-wire fence separating my yard from the pasture. At first, I thought nothing of it. Surely the cows would not dare enter a dog’s territory. I was wrong.
Sunday evening, while watching the season finale of Dr. Who – Jody Whittaker is excellent, by the way – I was startled by a loud “Clop, Clop” on my back porch. With the dogs baying like the devil himself had arrived to take me, I peeked out the back door to see a young bull peering intently back at me.
“Can Alice and Arlo come play?” he seemed to be saying.
Did you know cows are scared of brooms? I did not, but I was pleasantly surprised as the inquisitive creature quickly retreated. Surely that would be the end of it.
Monday afternoon, after laying out the B-section for this week’s paper, I dropped by the house to let the dogs out. I try to make sure they get a chance to relieve themselves if I am going to be covering an evening event.
Arriving home, I was rather surprised when, instead of Alice and Arlo greeting me at the door, the bull trotted down off my porch to see who had arrived to interrupt his nap.
“Oh, its you,” he mooed. “Well hurry up and open the door so I can play with my friends.”
I want it on the record cows do not bother me. The bull, while definitely not where he belongs, has been a great source of entertainment for myself and my mother, who dotes on Alice and Arlo and frequently demands updates on their friendship with the cows. That being said, I am concerned he will get out into traffic, hurt himself on the stairs or run afoul of the dogs whilst I am not at home. Trespasser he may be, my dogs consider him family, and so do I.
This weekend I plan to make a trip to Lowes for some wire and staples to repair the fence. With luck, the bull will go back where he belongs, and we can return to being friendly neighbors.
Howard is managing editor for The Newton County Appeal. He can be reached at thoward@newtoncountyappeal.com
