I’m that cow.

Toni and I drive past a herd of cattle every morning when she takes me to work. We like to discuss what the cows are up to, and what they’re thinking. Toni is always amazed that they haven’t figured out body heat: because in the brutal summer heat, they all go stand under the shade trees on the edge of their pasture — but they all pack together, side by side, in the shade; we have no doubt that their shade is not in any way cooler than the sunshine. Nonetheless, every hot day: “Come on, everybody! Crowd in. Room for a few more if we squeeze. Man, is it hot! Well, at least we have shade!”

Toni and I like to make our own fun.

So this morning’s conversation went like this.

Dusty: I bet the cows discuss philosophical things while they’re grazing. I know if I was a cow, I’d do that all the time. I’d be like, “Hey, you guys ever wonder where the grass comes from?”

Toni: (Speaking for the other cows): “It grows out of the ground.”

Dusty (Speaking for the Wondering Cow): “Yeah, but where was it before that?”

Toni: I bet they’d avoid you. “Oh, no — here he comes again. Everybody turn the other way.”

Dusty The Wondering Cow: “Hey! You guys! You guys! You know what I was just wondering?”

Toni: You’d annoy them all, thinking too many weird things and asking too many questions. “Why? Why? Why?” You’d bug the crap out of the other cows.

Dusty: (After a lengthy pause) I’m like that now.

And then, silence.

I’m that cow.

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