In my dream, I bought a cow. It’s settled. No going back. But, now what? What happens after you buy a cow?
Where are you going to put it, the wife asks. When you live in a small apartment that is a valid question.
Even when I see books I want, she says where are you going to put them? If I see a chair I like, where would it go? If I see a cute puppy on Instagram, yes, but who’s going to walk it? And what would Maisy think about a new puppy? So much to consider.
So if I bought a cow, what would I do with it? Where would it go? It’s all very well to dream about buying a cow, but we have to be practical.
In my dream, I was in a store talking with one of the owners of a local manufacturing and distribution business. He says, I have a cow for sale. It’s only $300. I think about it. Too much I say.
Later I come back to look more at the cow. I see it was originally marked down to $110. So I bargain with him. OK, you can have the cow for $110.
Still, what am I going to do with a cow? Where am I going to put it? I have no green space, no backyard. My wife, whose name is Michelle, Michelle says, “Great. I can see it’s very cute. And not so big now, a little more than an adolescent calf. But still, where are you going to put it? You know it will grow, don’t you?
The spare bedroom? I weakly suggest. Are you willing to walk it, she counters. And can we even get diapers big enough for a cow?
I bet Amazon has extra large diapers, you know, big enough to fit Americans. We could cut a hole in them for the tail. Of course we would cut a hole for the tail.
Is it is boy cow or a girl cow? That might have some bearing on the size of diaper. At least, it raises the question of which way round the diaper goes, as you want the pee side to be in the front, and the poo side in the back.
She is very practical, my Michelle. I imagine myself walking the cow around the block. She keeps stopping to eat the neighbour’s grass. She loves the vacant lot where the tall grass grows. After all, she is a city cow.
I just realized I have assigned a gender to my cow. She is a fine brown cow. OK, she has a gender and colour. We are getting somewhere here. What about a name? If we are going to keep the cow, we have to name it.
Bessie, I suggest.
Too traditional.
How about Karen?
Hmm, I see the irony at play here. Yes, Karen the cow. Or should we spell it Caron the Cow. Karen the Kow? So many choices and tough decisions when you buy a cow.
Michelle worries about where it came from, its history, how it survived the teen years. The traumas it may have endured at the supermarket. Was this cow used when you bought it or was it relatively new?
Oh Christ. Your cow just took a dump in the hallway of the apartment building. What is the strata going to say? The neighbours are complaining about the smell, and the mooing at all hours of the night.
I go back to the supermarket with Karen. We stroll the meat section. It’s like walking through Auschwitz, Karen says. That could have been my brother there. I hurry us through to the produce section. This is much better, Karen offers. Oh my God, the green vegetables are expensive here. Let’s go back to walking around the block. I’m pretty sure I saw a patch of grass near that blue house on the corner.
We leave the store, and not too soon either, as the security guard is upset that I brought Karen with me. You can’t bring a cow in here. Don’t come back again.
I yell back. You can keep your genocidal meat aisle. I scream back at him.. You’re a fucking fascist.
Karen says, He’s only doing his job. Calm down, Karen says. She is so chill. I feel calm when I am around her. Even Michelle is coming around. She and Karen have girl talks. They share Instagram memes. Yes, Karen has her own cellphone now. And the second bedroom is now Karen’s room. We have laid out some grass in there. She loves to watch her old black and white tv shows like Green Acres, and Mr. Ed. She thinks Eddie Arnold is dreamy. She even loves Eddie (Arnold) Dutchman, but then again, everyone loves the Dutchman. He brings her stroop. That Dutchman has a way with the cows.
Karen wakes up in the middle of the night. She is crying. What’s wrong, girl?
I just keep thinking about that store. That “meat” aisle. They can’t even say my name right. It is Cow, not Beef. I’m haunted by those images. Liver. Flank steak. Tongue. Ground round. It’s all so unconscionable.
I know, I know. But we learn to live with it Karen. She starts mooing. We should move to the country she says. I need a bigger backyard. We don’t even have a backyard. Eddie Arnold has a backyard. And a beautiful wife. One of Gabor sisters. That Mr. Haney is a bit of a creep though. The way he cuddles his pig Arnold.
She needs a place where she can roam free, Michelle says. You are not being fair to Karen. We owe her a better life. A home on the range.
Oh Karen, we can dream. We can dream of a little house in Chilliwack, where could hang out with Buck and Penny. Karen says she’d like that.
I still say no even though Karen and I got to chew the cud
I have a dream. I dream of a time when a person will be measured by the creativity of their content, and not the colour of their cow.