They come out at twilight—bovine spies of the night. Here’s one I caught planting an audio device in the chimney. The residents weren’t there, so I couldn’t warn them, and if I dared to leave them a note, the spies would surely destroy it, as they would any cud.
No, it was better that I "shot and ran" before they could nab me. I had to do some fancy footwork to lose them, for they were hot on my trail for quite a while. Fortunately, I know the neighborhood well; the alleys, the side doors that are unlocked, back yard gates that are left unlatched…
Our neighbors on either side of us have been wise to bovine spies for quite some time now. They’ve installed motion lights on their roofs—no cow wants to be caught like a deer in the headlights. So we are safe—for now.
What, you might ask, are the spies up to? A scheme to take back their milk? To blackmail vegetarians who secretly eat veal? A plan to take beef-eaters hostage? Bovine dominion over all? (don’t laugh; they’ve already taken India) Authorities aren’t sure. And the cows aren’t talking.
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Cows have no business in horseplay.
Sacred cows make the best hamburger.
– Mark Twain
As for butter versus margarine, I trust cows more than chemists.
- Joan Gussow
Never kick a cow chip on a hot day.