So why, Kerri, do you need a CRB? you ask.
VERY good question.
So yesterday morning the dogs starting barking like crazy. Not unusual, but it requires investigation. I look out the south window and see 2 large cows standing in the road. I was trying to discern if these were our neighbors cows, or ours. They proceeded to run away from the house, right on down the road. They looked WAY too big to be ours. I was "this" close to calling the hair salon on the corner, because the woman who runs it is the daughter of my neighbor with the cows. (For my city friends, and those who knew me before I became hick-a-fied, yes, I know I sound like a redneck.)
Well, before I could call, Jacob yells, "Mom, those ARE our cows!" I'm like, CRAP!
It's 12 degrees outside. There are patches of ice everywhere. MG + trach + 12 degrees F + icy ground = Kerri doesn't go outside.
While he's doing this, I'm on the lookout for giant hoofed animals that are somewhere in the vicinity of my house, running amok. I found 2 half rotten apples and gave them to Jacob who stood by the back door in case they came down one side of the driveway.
I then went up to the front of the house, looked out the windows, and found a big ol' brown cow butt *right* there. So I frantically move all the stuff in front of the front door (yes I know it's a fire hazard, but we never use that door, and that's a perfect spot for Jacob's easel), whip open the door, and now I'm toe to hoof with 2 animals that collectively weigh close to a ton.
I was shaking in my slippers. I had my typical morning attire on: tank top, shorts, cardigan sweatshirt and slippers. (Remember now, it's 12 degrees.) I am not a fan of livestock. Especially when they are in my FRONT YARD staring me down.... They are big and they scare me. I'm yelling around the house for Jacob to bring me the two apples we did have. Finally remembered that he was INSIDE the back door, so I open the front door and holler as loud as I can, and Jacob comes running.
ALL kinds of thoughts are running through my mind....they're gonna charge me. They're going to decide that door looked pretty good and want to come in. Can you imagine? COWS in your house??
Well thank the good Lord that didn't happen.
Here I am, out in the freezing cold, talking to these two ginormous cows trying to keep them from running away with nothing but my charm. Oh, and 2 apples. I hold my shaking arm out to Hamburger, the little cow (probably 600 pounds), who is the leader of the group. I have an apple in it. (Albeit a shaking apple.) Brown cow (1200-1300 pounds) is a scaredy-cow and hates being out of his pasture. I'm like then why did you leave it, stupid cow??
Then a large truck goes by. Oh dear Jesus. Brown Cow gets the even crazier eyes. Hamburger, on the other hand, has these kind of big, doey eyes that are very calm. Brown Cow? Not so much. Crazy-eyes. And he's got them pinned on me.
I am praying, "Lord Jesus please don't let them stampede, and charge me, or run into the street again!" all whilst holding this shaking apple out to Hamburger. He took it right. from. my. hand. AHH!! Thank God he dropped it, and it rolled down the hill in the right direction to go back to their pasture. The I kind of half-threw, half-dropped the other apple in the driveway and it started to roll, and thankfully Brown Cow went right behind it.
Just then Doug comes home. He ended up whipping off his belt, getting it around Hamburger's neck, and pulling him into the pasture. Where Hamburger goes, Brown Cow follows. So crisis over. He's such a
Doug went back to work, Jacob and I did school, and I was totally paranoid, and kept looking out the windows, half-expecting to find Crazy-Eyes staring at me.
Doug got home late yesterday, but he came in with our Cow Recovery Bucket. It has corn and a rope. Apparently the idea is, if the cows get out again, to grab the rope out of the bucket and shake the corn. The shaking of the corn gets their attention. Then you put a rope around one and put it back.
I'm like, seriously?!?!? I think I'll still just scream like a girl and call my husband.