Bovis

At 7:40 this morning, I walked the dogs up my country road, trying to get us all some exercise before it got too hot. Fail. We were all panting five minutes in. I blinked away sweat, and the dogs bulldozed their noses through the dewy, tall grass.

About a half-mile up, there’s a farm. Or a ranch. I’m not sure I know the difference, actually…OK, I just looked it up. Turns out, a ranch is a kind of farm that raises horses, cattle, or sheep. So this place is a ranch because it raises cows and horses.

I just love looking at cows. I love their soft eyes and their improbable shape—how do they carry that tank on four, spindly legs?!

One of the cows in the herd took a break from his munching and swung his head toward us. His eyes were hard. A companion stopped and looked as well. Within moments, two dozen cattle were staring, rigid, at me and my dogs. We walked a little faster.

I’m not sure which one moved first, but all of a sudden, the herd was shifting toward us. I looked at the three pathetic wires that separated little me and my two pit mixes from six tons of bovine heft. It was clearly electrified, but somehow I didn’t think that would matter in a stampede. We picked up the pace, and those beasts trotted after us.

I was just starting to worry in a serious way, when Redford turned around and barked. Miraculously, every cow paused. Then they lurched forward again. He shouted at them several times, and they slowed.

I couldn’t tell whether Redford was scared or happy because his tail was flopping madly the whole time. My question was answered when we passed the ranch’s property line, and Redford squatted immediately and crapped his pants.

Hey, little buddy, no worries. I almost did the same thing.