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Annie

Just A Girl and Her Cow

By E.L. MartinPublished 3 years ago 5 min read
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Annie
Photo by Richard Gatley on Unsplash

When I was young, I made a habit of spending time with Annie.

Annie was the Black Angus heifer I was raising.

Weaned from her mother too early, she was the beauty I bottle raised.

We found comfort in each other's company; she and I.

She never asked me to be anything other than me.

She had the fluffiest, silkiest fur for a cow, and neatly cared for it just as I did.

After a long day at school or with family, I brought my curry comb to her side.

She greeted me with a lick of her rough, coarse tongue.

Wet sandpaper was what it felt like; strange, but loving all the same coming from her.

A sort of exfoliation for the body and spirit.

It boosted my mood.

I noticed she would keep herself as clean and tidy as possible; which was an unusual characteristic for a cow.

When mud came to her coat, she cleaned it off with her wet sandpaper tongue too and occasionally found a nice tree or post to scratch if off on.

She had gotten used to my brushings, as had I.

It was a methodical thing, a comforting thing, something that gave me no trouble at all.

Something I didn't have to think about.

She was happy and so was I.

She scampered and jumped youthfully when we were together, which looked funny after some years had passed and she became larger.

She spent more time with dogs than she did with other cows, and had a fondness for the canines on our property.

She was always close by; more of a companion animal than livestock.

She loved babies; both animals and humans alike.

When our dog gave birth to a litter of pups, we were both happy.

She frolicked about merrily.

She came close to smell, then jumped away, danced about, and repeated.

It made me chuckle.

I spent many hours outside with them giving each attention; the litter, mother, and Annie just the same.

They gave me comfort and healed me with their presence.

For so long I was unsure about my identity and qualification as a daughter, granddaughter, sister, daughter, friend, and human.

These animals paid it no mind.

All they knew and all they cared was that I was kind to them, and that meant something.

I had depression, anxiety, hurt, confusion, and mental and emotional pain to sort through and figure out.

I was always being diagnosed with some disorder by my grandmother and mother; always making life inconvenient for them all the same.

Whether it was my unladylike appearance, gender identity concerns, lack of romantic relationships or "normal" friendships, or whatever was bothering them, that didn't seem to bother Annie.

I was given names at school; many of them inaccurate and illogical.

Unwittingly, Annie was my source of therapy and medication.

She was my safe haven away from it all.

She never looked at me different.

I rushed from the school bus to obtain my gumboots and cried into Annie's coat, brushing it all the while.

She didn't mind. She never minded. Her strong, encouraging licks said so.

We relied on each other, and we were happy.

We were prized, valued, and comforted.

The world was as it was, but we were in it and for now that was okay.

We went adventuring to the "waterfall" on our property.

It was just a simple part of a stream, but I liked to pretend it was more.

We walked the fence line; just Annie and me.

We nibbled on black raspberries and blackberries we found.

I wasn't sure if she should be eating them, but figured they were okay.

She raised her head at me in a dancing sing-song type way when I made up goofy little songs like a bard in our travels.

I added poor grammar and Appalachian accent in jest and honor of such silliness.

"Briars, briars everywhere; can't make no stops, can't get nowhere".

I laughed at my poem that made no sense. It was the same level of bad as saying ain't, which I hated, but also liked to say nonetheless when the cares of the world bled off my back.

Annie didn't care how eloquently I spoke.

I was laughing, and that was all that mattered. I was happy.

She found a home at the livestock auction with me. Where else she could have gone, I am uncertain.

What I know is; I found a home in her heart in return, and that made my heart happier and closer to whole.

While there was risk to animal attachment especially of the livestock variety, I loved her dearly all the same.

Being a cow meant facing impending doom unless she could be used for breeding.

She didn't know, but I did.

My hope was that someone would find her suitable for breeding and raising calves if she ever had to leave me.

I dreaded the thought of her absence.

She had a smaller frame, which I knew wasn't desirable for breeding.

Despite that, she had her pleasant and friendly disposition.

When I showed her at the county fair, everyone loved her warmth.

They could tell I had worked with her.

We looked like a team, and we were.

She was easy to show with her gentle nature.

I had hoped that someone would want her to raise their children's show calves one day.

Maybe, I hoped, I could help raise them with her and she would not have to go anywhere without me and I without her.

Despite the uncertainty of both our futures, we still placed our trust, friendship, love, and care in one another.

We were at home with each other, and that was all that mattered.

By chris liu on Unsplash

inspirational
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About the Creator

E.L. Martin

Powered by Nature, Humanity, Humor, Food, Lifestyle, Fiction, and Culture; Oh, and a questionable amount of coffee.

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