I don’t know y’all. It’s a cow. It’s cute. That’s all I’ve got.
The cow, as it turned out, was the least of Lacey’s problems. When she’d come home from work that Tuesday and found it on her front steps, she’d been rather stressed about it, but as the days slunk past the stress of suddenly having a cow quickly paled in comparison day-to-day pressures like day job deadlines, overdue electricity bills, text messages from exes, house parties she wanted to attend but didn’t have a gift for, and a range of other things.
It was a rather strange cow. It was small, only about up to Lacey’s belly-button at the neck, with a somewhat long body, short legs and a large head. It looked, she realized the morning after it arrived as she stared at it to ascertain that the previous day hadn’t just been a dream, like the cow version of a Corgi – very cute and chibi-like but perhaps note entirely real. It had long shaggy hair like highland cattle, but only around the head and neck, and no horns. It also didn’t seem to eat. This last fact was a particular relief to Lacey, who didn’t own any grass or hay or whatever it was that cows ate.
She’d spent quite a bit of time in the first few days trying to track down the cow’s owner. Flyers around the neighborhood, posts on local social media groups, net searches for missing tiny cows. Nothing. Not a thing. In fact, after an extensive dig into cow-related websites and extensive image searching, she was beginning to think that not only did nobody miss this cow, it was possibly this kind of cow didn’t actually exist. She was okay with that.
As she settled under a blanket at the corner of her couch on the Saturday night, a trashy show just starting up on her TV, feeling her limbs relax for what felt like the first time this very stressful week, and the cow came over to lie down on the floor beside her and lean its fuzzy head against her thigh, she was very okay with that.