a tangled, matted knot of hair
and pulled hard and
that big head swung toward me
and knocked against my arm
scolding me
as a wide swath of mucus
dripped out of her nose
and down my sleeve.
Her wet slobbery tongue
slapped against my wrist.
She lifted her tail
unleashing a wide, steamy stream
of
urine
sp
lash
ing
my pants and boots.
Oh, that’s good! Luke called from the fence.
I’m gonna draw that!
About that time, along came Paulie the pig. He dashed toward and beneath Zora, who kicked at him, and, missing him, Zora got me instead.
That pig! What good is that pig? I yelled.
Mrs. Falala poked her head out of the barn door and said, Paulie eez part of family. What if someone ask your mama what good are you?
LONELY
On my bike
riding to Mrs. Falala’s
Luke ahead of me
bobbing his head
and singing a song
he made up as he pedaled:
Gonna ride, ride,
gonna fly, fly,
gonna zip, zip . . .
And I felt lucky
that Luke was with me
that I wasn’t wandering
this new town
alone.
We pulled into Mrs. Falala’s drive
stashed our bikes
put on our work clothes
and found Zora
still in her stall
standing against the rail
her head hanging low
and
something popped in my chest
sending bubbles floating up to my brain.
Luke, I said, Zora is lonely.
Aw, Luke said.
Aw, poor Zora.
I entered the stall
and approached Zora slowly.
Gently I stroked her neck.
You’re lonely, aren’t you, girl?
Zora moved her head
toward me.
She rested her head against
my arm.
That day I told Mrs. Falala
that Zora was lonely
that Zora needed company
that she must be very sad
to be all alone.
Mrs. Falala mashed her lips
together and said,
Zora eez not alone.
I am here.
Paulie the pig eez here.
So eez Cat, so eez Parrot,
so eez Edna Snake.
I said,
But there are no other cows.
No one for her to lean against.
No one for her to talk to.
Mrs. Falala said nothing.
She turned around and
walked back to the house
that long white braid
swinging slowly
left to right
right to left.
FOG
Down to the harbor
early one Saturday morning
Mom and Dad and me and Luke
before
the tourists swarmed
before
the stores opened.
Soft, gray
fffffffog
hovered
over the water
masking the moored boats.
We climbed down to the small
stretch of beach
seaweed and mussel shells
Fish smell and salt air
mast creaks and rope jangles.
And as we stood there
the fog rose
slowly, surely,
revealing first the hulls
and then the masts
of wooden vessels
their sails
rolled
into
cocoons
and lobster boats wave-rolling
and red-blue-yellow buoys bobbing.
My mother said,
Oh!
Did you ever see anything
like that
ever
in your life?
And I was thinking that
I never saw anything like
everything I was seeing
never saw anything like
those everythings
ever
in
my
life.
Sometimes I had to
close my eyes
to rest them from
all the new everythings
pouring in.
DREAMS
At night I dreamed of Zora
of her wide furry body
and her giant head
and her huge black eyes
and in the dreams
I combed her
and talked with her
and she was warm
and comforting
and I smelled the sawdust
in her stall
and felt the softness of her fur
and in the dream
she talked to me.
She said
Yes, I am lonely.
Yes, I am.
So I stroked her
and combed her
and told her
that I would find
some company
for her.
PLANS
I was nervous, nervous, but I geared up my courage and talked first to Beat and Zep and then to the owners of Birchmere Farm. I was afraid they would laugh at me, but they didn’t.
Of course, they said. She needs to be around other cows. Of course.
They said that I could bring Zora to their farm where there was plenty of room and plenty of other cows, as long as I took care of her.
Zora comes from a long line of Grand Champions, Mr. Birch said. Did you know that?
No, I did not.
And she should show well as long as you can keep that temper of hers under control.
Beat and Zep would help me train Zora and they would train me, too, so that I would know how to show Zora at the fair.
A long line of Grand Champions!
That sounded impressive, didn’t it? It sounded like a perfect plan, right?
A LONG LINE
Mrs. Falala was not so excited about the plan.
Move Zora? Take my Zora? That eez not happening.
But she would have company, I said. Lots and lots of company.
Mrs. Falala waved my words away with one hand.
I am the company of Zora, Mrs. Falala said. Me and Edna and Paulie and China and Crockett. We are plenty company.
Mrs. Falala sat on the hay bale that had become her regular seat for drawing with Luke. Patting the bale next to her, she opened her notebook and looked up at Luke expectantly.
But, I persisted, look how sad Zora seems. Look how she hangs her head. Listen to those sad moos.
That eez not sad hanging head! Mrs. Falala snapped. Those are not sad moos. Those are normal cow moos and normal cow heads.
I said, I hear Zora comes from a long line of Grand Champions.
Mrs. Falala clicked her tongue and tapped her pencil on her notebook. You want to see Grand Champions? she said. Go look in barn, past the halters, go on, you go look,
Luke and I have drawing to do.
Along a wooden rail
at one end of the barn
near the halters and ropes
and rakes and shovels
and buckets and barrels
hung a row of photos
the images clouded over
with dust and cobwebs.
With a rag, I cleared away the glass.
In each was a Beltie
and a young woman
holding a medallion and blue ribbon:
Grand Champion.
&
nbsp; I looked closely at the women and wondered if maybe they were all the same person, growing older.
I returned to Mrs. Falala and Luke, their heads bent over their notebooks.
That’s you, isn’t it? I said. In those photographs with the Grand Champions—that’s you.
Mrs. Falala said, I lie down now. Abruptly, she stood and returned to the house, calling behind her, Don’t take my Zora.
A FRIEND
When Beat and Zep heard about Mrs. Falala’s refusal to move Zora to Birchmere Farm, Zep offered to bring one of his own heifers to Mrs. Falala’s.
To keep Zora company, Zep said, to be an example for Zora.
Beat chimed in, Oh, yes! You should send Yolanda, definitely Yolanda.
Yolanda was smaller than Zora, quiet and sweet. She didn’t bump us or slobber on us or whack her tail at us.
We were excited to tell Mrs. Falala about this offer, so excited that we didn’t wait until the next morning. We found Mrs. Falala walking up her drive, trailed by China, the golden fat cat. We told her the news—that Zep had offered to bring Yolanda over to keep Zora company.
Luke was clapping his hands to try to contain his excitement.
But Mrs. Falala was not excited. She carried on walking. I am telling you that Zora already has company and besides who would take care of that extra animal? You think I want that extra work? And who would pay for the grain?
Luke and I stopped. We turned our bikes around.
And then we heard a loud
Mooooo
and then more
Mooooo, mooooo, mooooooooo.
Luke said, Zora is calling us, Reena. We can’t just leave without saying hello.
We left our bikes and walked up to the barn where we found Zora nudging her huge nose against a rail.
Mooooo. Mooooo.
It was a friendly sound that day, and when we reached her, she leaned her head against my arm.
Luke patted her side. There, there, he whispered. Don’t be lonely, Zora. We are here.
Mrs. Falala came up behind us. Okay, okay, okay, she said. The friend cow can come but only for a visit, only a week or two, and you have to take care of it. Are you hearing me?
Yes, yes! We are hearing you!
We stayed longer and cleaned out the bay
and refilled the grain bin
and led Zora around the pasture
and hosed her off
and combed her hair
and told her about
the new cow friend
Yolanda
who would come the next day.
As we were leaving, Mrs. Falala
clicked her tongue and said,
Paulie will be jealous.
The pig? Luke said.
Why would Paulie be jealous?
Because he’ll want a friend, too,
Mrs. Falala said.
She turned her back on us
and swung that long braid
left and right
and disappeared into her house.
YOLANDA ARRIVES
Zep and Beat and Mr. Birch from the farm brought Yolanda in the truck to Mrs. Falala’s. Yolanda was all cleaned up for the occasion: her fur shiny and smooth, her hooves clean, and her head and neck boasting a new green bridle.
Zep led her to the outdoor pen where Zora was standing, munching on a bit of hay. Both Zora and Yolanda lifted their heads but did not make a sound.
Zora flicked her tail.
Yolanda flicked her tail.
We stood by the fence watching, me and Luke and Zep and Beat. I looked back toward the house and saw Mrs. Falala at the kitchen window, but she quickly ducked out of the way.
Zora seemed confused. Her head moved slowly, taking in
Yolanda
and all of us at the fence. She backed up.
I was so nervous. I feared Zora would kick Yolanda or bellow at her or butt her with her big head.
The two of them
stood there
and
stood there
and
stood there
and
stood there.
Urggggg!
It was so frustrating
so nerve-wracking
the watching
and waiting.
A mud ball emerged
from around the back of the barn:
Paulie the pig
snorting and snuffling
covered with mud.
He squeezed under
the bottom rail of the fence
and into the pen
and straight over to Yolanda
snorting and snuffling
and sniffing
while
Yolanda stood perfectly still
and then China the cat
her back arched
her fur on end
zoomed into view
and under the rail
circling Yolanda
while
Yolanda stood perfectly still
and then
Crockett the parrot
flapped and squawked
up and over the fence
and onto Yolanda’s back
while
Yolanda stood perfectly still.
And at last Zora moved.
She approached Yolanda.
She nudged Paulie and China away
and she batted her head at Crockett
sending the parrot flying off.
Zora sidled up to Yolanda
and the two stood there
side by side
making no sound.
They just
stood there
and
stood there
and
stood there.
TRAINING
For an hour each day, Zep joined us at Mrs. Falala’s to work with Yolanda and to show me how to train Zora for two events at the upcoming fair. One event would judge the cows and one would judge the people showing the cows. I asked Zep if the judging was done in front of an audience.
Zep leaned his forehead close to mine. He said, Well, you’re not going to show Zora in a closet. You afraid of an audience?
No, I am not. I just have no idea what to expect.
You don’t think you can handle it?
I can handle it, Zep. And even if I couldn’t, I wasn’t going to admit it to him.
You’ll have to work really hard to get Zora ready and to learn what to do—
—I can work hard—
—and I’ll help you.
My mouth flopped open like a thirsty dog.
Zep smiled his slow, full smile and turned his head to one side.
I was embarrassed down to the tips of my boots. I wanted to be able to train Zora right and show her well, and I needed his help.
We practiced out in the pasture, the heifers tethered to us by their halters.
Heads up, Zep said, you and Zora. Back straight. Follow me. Watch.
Zora was not cooperative. I tugged. I pulled. Three steps forward. Stop. Tug. Pull. Five steps. She was being stubborn and ornery. Meanwhile, Zep and Yolanda moved on smoothly, walking a wide circle with no stopping and no tugging.
Luke and Mrs. Falala were sitting on the hay bales drawing. From time to time they glanced up at us and then back to their paper.
Zora moved forward and, mid-stride, dropped a plop of manure.
What if she does that in the show?
They all do it, Zep said. It’s natural.
But everybody’s walking round and round and stepping in it?
Nah, there’ll be pickers there. They scoop it up.
Well, then: manure plops and pickers and scooping. It was natural, right?
The training was harder than I expected. Most days it was hot and dusty, and after coaxing Zora to let me halter her and lead her around, my arms and legs were weak with fatigue. Then I still had to tend to her food and water and clean out her pen. But the surprising thing to me was that I liked doing it. I liked
the hard work. I liked seeing Zora respond a little more each day, and I liked feeling stronger.
Luke helped me with cleaning out the pen and brushing Zora, and I could tell that he liked it, too. He wanted to be in charge of cleaning out the buckets and hanging up the brushes and halters. He talked to Zora and Yolanda all the time, letting them know that they were good cows. Not lumpy at all, he told them.
Luke was less afraid of Mrs. Falala now, too. He wasn’t flinching when she sat beside him on the hay bales, and she wasn’t barking so many orders at us. Often, I saw her and Luke talking while they drew, side by side.
Little changes, day by day.
RAIN DAY
One day as Luke and I were halfway to Mrs. Falala’s
the rain began
p
d
o
o
u
w
r
n
i
n
g
in straight torrents from the skies
drenching us
our shirts plastered to our skin
our hair flattened on our heads.
We raced to the barn
just as lightning
cracked
and
F L A S H E D
and thunder
booooooooomed
and
rumbled
overhead.
We cowered in the stall beside Zora and Yolanda
who were lying side by side in the sawdust.
It smelled of cows and rain and piney chips
and their fur was warm and soft
as we leaned against them.
And I thought I could stay all day
right there
cradled
by
cows.
SAD ZEP
Zep arrived one morning looking limp—
as if someone had let the air out of his body
no trace of a smile
sad, sad, droopy mouth
eyes swollen and red.
He went quickly to Yolanda and Zora
and rubbed his hand across their heads
and sides
and looked into their eyes
and touched their wet noses
and turned to us and said
that one of the cows at Birchmere
had died
in the night.
He found her lying on her side
in her stall
her head against the wall
her legs tucked daintily beneath her.
Died? Luke said.
Died? How could a cow die?
Zep blinked
oncetwicethreetimes.