The cows are content in their bovine stolidity. Even the young calf knows her place, which is by the side of her mother and within the little herd. Sure, they reach under the fence for the extra fresh grass, but it is truly greener. The mother hogs the food from the two younger cows, (one must be a young but not mature bull), but she needs food to produce milk for the calf, and no one seems bent out of shape. They enjoy the extra treat of fruit and veggie scraps once a week, and come running, but I have the feeling they don't stand around wondering "where the hell is she?" The cows are content with grass, shade, and water. They don't even seem to mind the flies.
The cats are another case. Thisbe, the younger, fatter one has needs. In the morning when I pad down into the kitchen, she follows me from her spot on the little rug next to the bed. Meow, meow. There is not enough food in the dish. Meow, meow, my water dish is low. Meow, meow, I would like my catnip, now. Meow, please pet me. Meow, meow, let me into the garage to roll on the concrete. Meow, I am bored, please pet some more. Meow, I would like a fresh grey toy mouse. Meow, please open the front door; I want to look at the yard and the street and especially the birds and the chipmunk that steals the bird food. Meow. Will you please brush me?
Such a small (fat) critter and so opinionated. Kind of like some people we know.
Aloha,
Grapeshot
Thursday, August 25, 2005
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