Annabelle Attacks

Annabelle is a cow. Grandpa named her. Annabelle’s a gentle cow, with dark pools for eyes and a sweet curiosity. She had a baby this morning, so this evening I visited the two of them in the pasture, intending to congratulate the mama and medicate and tag the baby. The usual welcome I give to new members of the herd. But Annabelle was feeling a little protective, and when I unceremoniously threw my arms around her daughter and threw the baby to the ground (no time for ceremony with baby cows, who can run at speed just hours after birth), Annabelle became slightly alarmed. Just enough alarmed to throw herself at me headlong – and by headlong I mean that she threw her rather long head into me with the intent of knocking me clean off the premises. I ducked my head, curled up in a ball, and waited as Annabelle used her head repeatedly against me as a sort of wrecking ball. I sang to her “Annabelle, Annabelle, it’s okay, Annabelle” and gave thanks to God Above that Annabelle has no horns. When I raised my head, my glasses had been smooshed beyond usefulness and refused to balance on my nose, and I attempted to straighten them while sitting on the calf to keep it still and whispering to Annabelle what a good mama she is. Once I could see, and Annabelle could see that I wasn’t out to kill the baby, she allowed me to tag the little girl’s ear. Annabelle’s baby is now officially #26. I let her go without her vitamin shots, for Annabelle’s sake.

Most of our mama cows are cautious but not overly worried when I tag and medicate their newborns. Annabelle, well, let’s just say Annabelle really really loves that baby. Can’t fault her for that. I’ll make a quick trip to the optometrist’s office tomorrow, and all will be well.