Next week the cows are leaving. Thank God.
Unable to sustain feeding, housing, breeding and milking our 40 cows twice a day, my father-in-law made the decision to stop milking. The cows will be leaving. They will not be going to another farm.
I never liked those damn cows anyway.
Every time I tried to take a shower, they would drink and use up all the water pressure. They were always bawling in the night when I was trying to sleep. Every two days a semi-tanker would drive under my bedroom window at 3 a.m. to pick up the milk; it took months before I stopped waking up to the diesel engine humming outside.
One time they got loose and ran all over the neighborhood. Actually, they did that several times.
And when it got really wet, they stunk.
Those cows were a nuisance. They chained the whole family to this farm, preventing us from taking vacations, attending family events. Did you know each cow produces 100 pounds of manure a day?
Who needs those cows? Who needs little calves running to the fence out of curiosity about your upturned hand? Who needs homemade ice cream so rich no one noticed when I forgot the vanilla flavoring? Who needs to run out their kitchen door with the measuring cup just to get a quick cup of milk for a recipe? Who needs freshly washed heifers lying on a bed of straw at the county fair?
I never liked those damn cows anyway. So why am I crying now?