I like cows...I always have. They make me laugh, they are generally non-offensive...:)
They look placid, and often are, but...I find something in their bovine-brains that amuses me like this (I know these are cattle, not cows, but I think cows are the same in this respect:
Man calls in cattle from the field with his trombone!
Given that, you can see how the story below still makes me grin just thinking of it.
Back in the early Eighties, I was driving in my little greenish-yellow MG Midget out to see my brother who lived in a rural town in Western Massachusetts called Belchertown. I had left early for the 75 mile drive because I had to be there by 7:00 AM, and the roads were largely unihabited with no cars on the rural road.
It was before the sun came up, but it wasn't the black of night, and there was a heavy, heavy fog. As I approached a T-intersection in the dim fog coming up the small but steep hill to the stop sign (going up the base of the T to the crossing road) there was a single street light that cast a sharp cone of light in the fog.
I stopped, and as tried to see in the fog for oncoming cars, I heard...the clopping of hooves on asphalt and the clanging of a cowbell. It was getting closer and closer, and I still couldn't see what it was. It sounded right on top of me. Then, out of the foggy gloom, appearing in the sharp cone of light, it was a large black and white cow, udder swinging from side to side, cantering down the road, the bell clanging plaintively as it turned down the road I was on, passed me, and disappeared into the mist without even giving me a glance.
As if this kind of thing happened all the time! (and all I could think was..."A cow?")
My gosh, I love that memory! There was something surreal, dream-like, and...silly about it and I can see it just as crisply in my mind today as if it just happened...