
Encownter With a Cow
By: C.A. Broadribb
Theresa surveyed her herd of 600 cattle as she sat on top of a hill, sipping on a glass of wine. Her favourite red-and-white Hereford, Dot, wandered up to nuzzle her hand.
“Hello, darling,” she said, stroking Dot’s smooth forehead. “Don’t worry, I won’t let you get turned into steak.”
“Why not? I need a purpose in life,” the cow said.
Theresa spilled wine all over her dress. Fortunately, it was only a $14 dress from Best & Less.
“What’s happening? Cows can’t talk!” She looked around to see if anyone was listening, but the hill and fields remained devoid of human companionship.
“You expect me to just stand here all day chewing cud?” Dot said. Her voice was low and smooth. “I’ve been studying your human languages. It took me only 43 minutes to learn how to speak English.”
“No, no, no!” Theresa was on her feet, shouting, disturbing the other 599 cows who milled around anxiously, stamping their hooves. The smell of dung became even stronger.
“All right, it was 45 minutes if you include the tenses,” Dot ruminated.
“I must have drunk too much wine. That’s it.” Theresa grabbed the bottle and upended it onto the grass.
“May I have some?” Dot licked at the patch.
“Cows don’t drink wine!”
“But think about how much time it will save, not having to marinade me. Is marination done with wine? Nobody will let me into the house to watch cooking shows.”
“This can’t be happening! Stop it!” Theresa hysterically kicked the bottle towards Dot.
“Mind your manners,” the cow said. “Besides, you’re littering.”
“You’re the one who poos all over the grass. Look at my boots.” Theresa lifted a brown-splattered leg.
“Providing natural, biodegradable fertiliser is not the same as littering,” Dot said. “My excrement will break down within weeks but that bottle and glass will take millennia.”
“Fine, have it your way.” Theresa collected her items, now covered in smelly poo. “I’m never going to drink Merlot again.”
“What about Chardonnay?” Dot’s eye seemed to have a glint of humour in it.
“How can you know so much about alcoholic beverages? You’re nothing but a dumb animal.”
Dot swished her tail indignantly. “I’ll have you know that I’m highly intelligent and have listened in on many of your human conversations.”
“This must be a dream. I’ll wake up now, right?” Theresa looked around frantically at the sunny field. She tapped herself on the head with the bottle, stamped her feet, danced a little. Dot and the other cows watched dispassionately.
“Or I’ve got heatstroke. Or something. I need a doctor.”
Theresa stumbled downhill, heading towards the farmhouse, her face flushed. Behind her, 600 cows emitted moos that sounded suspiciously like chuckling.