Warm smell of the herd.

I watched a fellow cow adopt the incredulous attitude of indignation from the herd.

One sentence to my friend cow hit her so hard that she ran screaming for shelter under the tits of other cows.

They mooed how rude and mean I was for bring her issues in front of the pasture.

I thought this was odd given that the insulted cow displayed her misery out on the public pastures on a daily basis.

"If she felt comfortable sharing her misery in front of the other cows, why couldn't I point out the issues that produced the misery."

Of course the problem was that this sheltered cow wanted to pepper her issues with flavors that were pleasing and entertaining to the heard. After all, we have to consider the opinions of udders. "Entertaining the herd was paramount to focusing on issues behind the misery."

When the raw, ugly, hamburger of uncensored facts was presented in the pasture, I was the meanest, most insensitive cow in the world. Yet she didn't seem to have a problem giving me the raw burger in private, over by the fence.

I think that the raw, ugly, cow life that she hated existed not because she was an unworthy cow. The ugly life that she suffered from existed because she cared more about the opinions of udder cows than the issues surrounding her misery.

Unfortunately, while she was hiding under a chandeliers of udders, she could not tell which of the other cows were stepping all over her while the herd was mooing at my atrocity.

After much weeping and gnashing of cud, she finally pulled her head out from the milk nozzles just long enough to moo "go away meanie cow."

I wanted the best for this cow. Still do.

One day, she will realize that the warm smell of the herd is just an empty stinky smell. The cows only cared for her to the extent of her delicious, seasoned misery. Fear, Guilt and pity hamburger is what they craved. The strength and courage in the grass was not very tasty.

I hope a farmer of character, courage, and ability finds her along her way. Maybe he or she will point her to a sacred field. In her journey, the farmer will whisper in her ear that happiness comes from within. Not from the ground view of cow tits.

Maybe in her new field, she will become an independent cow. She will stand tall and proud in her pasture. Her baby calves will be happy and discipled.

Hopefully, she and her calves will be far upwind and distant from the warm smelly herd when they are carted off to the rendering plants of mediocrity.

Goodbye Hope.