In my next life I want to be a cow on a United States cattle ranch so I can find out what it feels like to be spoiled. Cows live a cushy life as a result of a rancher’s hard work and his pocketbook.
If I were a cow, I would get to eat an abundance of the best feed a rancher could provide and receive it with first-rate service. As a cow, I would never be let down because a rancher is a highly dependable person who would feed me at the same time every day.
These cattle stewards put in most of their time working for their cows—something I can’t get my rancher-husband nearly as enthused about doing for me as his wife. I would never have to worry about my welfare on a holiday or over the weekend. As a cow, I would know that under a cattleman’s care, feeding and watering livestock takes priority over plans for recreational leisure and vacations. A rancher wouldn’t skip a day in feeding me because my care comes first.
No matter what I smelled like or pooped on, a rancher’s world would still revolve around me daily. I could poop on him and he’d still plan on us spending the future together if I were one of his cows.
It would be so sweet to know how it feels to be thought about, worried about, fussed over, looked after and checked on like a cow is. I could bleed a rancher’s bank account dry with all my needs and he would just write it off at tax time.
If I were lucky enough to be a cow, I could enjoy being considered a high priority and ranked at the top of a rancher’s to-do list every day. Taking care of a cow herd is a rancher’s life passion. Ranchers definitely don’t do it to get rich because cattle ranching isn’t known for its monetary rewards. Being a cow would be an easy way to be ranked #1 for something.
If I wandered off and couldn’t get back—which cows are known to do, a rancher would gather me up and get me back home safely. If I was found calving out in a snowstorm, he would get me into a barn, protected from the elements. If I had trouble calving or my new calf wasn’t responsive, a rancher would know what to do and act quickly. If I was a cow, I wouldn’t need health insurance. I’d get the best of care possible from a rancher. He would notice before I did if my calf or I were sick, and would doctor us up if necessary.
In my next life, if I’m fortunate enough to live a life as a cow on a U.S. cattle ranch, you can call me a cow and I’ll consider it an honor. But until then, you can call me Amy Kirk, an agvocate, a columnist, Miss (I’m not too fond of ma’am), Mrs. Kirk, funny, Amy, a writer, witty…
This column was originally published February 7-13, 2010