Saturday, November 28, 2009

the circle of life...

yesterday was a sad day on the farm. one of the feeder cows died. not that i knew that at first. here's how "the chat" with my hubs went:
"UUUHHH, WHY IS YOUR DAD DRAGGING A COW WITH THE SKID LOADER??!!" i shrieked as i looked out the kitchen window. seriously, was not expecting that. i was just filling up my coffee pot with water. i just wanted a hot, fresh cup o' joe.
"Is it dead?" hubs asks. all calmly and monotony.
"UUHHH, NO! IT IS BOUNCING AND MOVING...AND..." i shriek in reply.
"No it's not. If Dad is dragging it, it's dead," he replies. again all calmly. and all monotony. at this point i realize that my hubs has not even looked up from his laptop. did not even seem bothered by this exchange of words.
but dead the cow was. is.
all dead.
and being dragged by it's hind leg in a chain to the end of the lane.
all bloated. legs in the air. and d-e-a-d.
at the end of the lane. waiting for the rendering truck to come and get it. the rendering truck is the farm equivalent of the hearse from the morgue. for $30 bucks, a guy and a truck come and pick up the dead animal and take it away. making sure the carcass is not used to make dog food, or cat food, or people food. or glue. well, unless it's a horse. they are still made into glue i think.
that's the skid loader.
here's couple of that dead cow's friends. they were all very sad. are very sad.
do you think there is grief therapy for bovine? i should google that...
it was probably the copious amount of pain pills i am popping that made me all sad about this poor, dead cow. i mean, i understand the farm. i grew up on a farm. i have watched "the lion king". i "get" the circle of life. i still bawled when mufasa died. poor lil simba. i bawled when my first cat, fluffy, got smushed by a car on the gravel road. i spent an entire afternoon bawling and calling for my dog duke (who looked almost like lassie...) until dad came home and told me he was dead.
but, any death makes me think of my mom. and my big kitter oliver. any death. except for when spiders die...
r.i.p poor cow.
(i am certain it was in her honor last night that we had pepperoni and sausage, not beef, on our pizza.)

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