In 1995, I had my first Big Mac.
Until then, I avoided McDonald’s hamburgers, sticking to their McChicken. Or McNuggets with BBQ or sweet and sour dipping sauce.
I admit I triedthe McLean Deluxe when my family went to the U.S. for a vacation, however, I couldn’t finish the Sahara dry burger. Looking back, what if that was a sign? A message in a patty?
As a child, I had a Holstein cow named Fanny. Since the sentence contains “had,” it’s obvious Fanny no longer moos amongst us.
I didn’t milk or shake straw into Fanny’s stall. Or read her Animal Farm or Fox and the Hound. Or clip barrettes onto her ears and plaster makeup on her face.
Fanny had the best stall in the barn. Close to the exit. Early release after milking. Plus, an extra bonus – she was beside the bull. In separate stalls, of course. I mean, sharing a stall with a male would be udderly wrong.
Continue reading “A True Cow Tale – I Miss My Fanny”