#1487: Hug a cow.

_and available man candy. But at least there would be mud, and maybe cows._ p12

And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand, They danced by the light of the moon.

To country people Cows are mild,And flee from any stick they throw;But I__ a timid town bred child,And all the cattle seem to know.

I'm afraid of those cows,' protested poor Dora, seeing a prospect of escape.'The very idea of your being scared of those cows,' scoffed Davy. 'Why, they're both younger than you.

If I had thought the beef marrow might be a hell of a lot of work for not much difference, I needn__ have worried. The taste of the marrow is rich, meaty, intense in a nearly-too-much way. In my increasingly depraved state, I could think of nothing at first but that it tasted like really good sex. But there was something more than that, even. What it really tastes like is life, well lived. Of course the cow I got marrow from had a fairly crappy life _ lots of crowds and overmedication and bland food that might or might not have been a relative. But deep in his or her bones, there was a capacity for feral joy. I could taste it.