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This writing was accepted for publication in the 84 page perfect-bound issue... Down in the Dirt magazine (v111) (the October 2012 Issue) You can also order this 5.5" x 8.5" issue as an ISSN# paperback book:

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the Life of a Cow

John Ragusa

    Nigel Kipling woke up one morning to find himself transformed into a cow.
    He hadn’t the slightest idea how it happened. At first, he thought he must be dreaming, but he felt wide awake, so it wasn’t a dream; it was reality.
    He supposed he’d have to get used to being milked by a farmer; it was embarrassing for him.
    He regretted the loss of his human voice; he couldn’t communicate with anyone. All he could say was “Moo!”
    Kipling prayed to God that he would go back to being a person. There were things he could do as a man that he couldn’t do as a cow.
    He knew that cowboys would handle him roughly, by slipping a rope around his neck.
    It was uncomfortable to be out in the heat all summer; as a man, he had been used to indoor air conditioning. But there was none in this field.
    Nigel looked around him. He was in a pasture of grass with other cows. He felt strange in such surroundings. He wasn’t accustomed to this kind of environment.
    He found that being a cow wasn’t fun at all. There just weren’t that many things to do. He thought that being a cow was boring, with nothing to do but graze in the grass. He wished there were more activities to keep him busy.
    Then he’d be in pain if he got hoof-and-mouth disease. He’d suffer a lot with it, and it might kill him.
    Kipling wondered if a witch had cast a spell on him to turn him into this animal. But he didn’t know any witches, so it wasn’t possible.
    He missed being able to read. That was one of his favorite hobbies, but he couldn’t do it as a cow.
    He’d get tired of only eating grass, too. He wouldn’t be able to eat what he liked.
    Kipling was aware that animals don’t have souls; therefore, they don’t go to heaven after they die. Now that he was a cow, could he make it into heaven? Perhaps not.
    He hoped the foxes wouldn’t find him, because they like to kill and eat cows. He could become one of their victims.
    He was dying for a beer. But cows aren’t given beer to drink.
    He couldn’t express himself, either, because cows cannot talk.
    When it would rain, he’d also get all wet, since he’d be outdoors.
    No, there definitely were no advantages to being a cow. He wouldn’t even be able to live much longer, because he was already an old cow. He’d have only a few years left to live.
    He figured that his wife and children must be wondering where he was. He hadn’t had a chance to tell them goodbye before his transformation. They might be thinking that he deserted them. He hoped they didn’t think that.
    Kipling began to worry then. As time went on, he would miss being with his family, the most important thing in his life. He’d be unable to talk or listen to them. They’d never have fun together again. What was he being punished for?
    On the other hand, he wouldn’t have to work for a living anymore. He wouldn’t have to provide for a spouse and kids. He wouldn’t have any responsibilities to face. He wouldn’t have to pay taxes. All he had to do was relax in this big, comfortable field and eat grass all day. It wouldn’t be a bad existence at all.
    And so Nigel Kipling sat down on the ground and began a life of contentment as a cow.
    But then it was time for him to be taken away to the slaughterhouse. . . .

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