A Small Betrayal

FarmWife is presently looking after cattle whilst their humans are away. This involves touching the gate, touching the feedroom latch, touching the hose, and touching the hay. It should not involve touching the cattle. It should not involve coming home covered in cattle, covered in cattle dandruff and cattle hair and eau de cattle from head to toe. Smelling her from a block away, I got to thinking that perhaps FarmWife was being a little friendlier with those cattle than I had anticipated, and I became worried. I already share her with Paisley and Jasper Jules and Harriet and Missy, Empress of All the Light Touches, and B and Desmond and Townes and Chanticleer and Feather and Raspberry and Strawberry and Blueberry and Victoria and Viola and Ada and Daphne and Flower and Daisy and Sister and Thing One and Thing Two and Bar Code II and the other hen whose name no one can ever remember. Not to mention the humans. I don't think I should have to share her too many more ways.

So we had a little sit-down talk, FarmWife and I, and it turns out that this big-eyed cow, Dahlia, likes to have her back scratched. LOVES to have her back scratched, in fact. Gallops gleefully up for a back scratch, closes her eyes in blissful contentment, stretches her bovine bulk into a sinewy conduit of pure tactile pleasure for a back scratch. I, on the other hand, tolerate light currying out of obligation and wrinkle my nose at any sort of vigorous massage south of the ears.

So, in the morning, off she'll go again to the cow pasture. She'll come home with hair on her shirt, dirt under her fingernails, and the unmistakable air of a woman who just made some animal very, very happy. I will accept her back, and love her anyway, because it is the bigness of her heart that makes her do it.

FB