Every Sunday morning, I am the only living/breathing animal on the road, for many Cats. I meet them on my paper run and I make it a point to talk to them. They communicate with me with wide eyes; some have allowed me to stroke their backs. Once I met a Persian Cat, perched on the bonnet of a car that had come from a night out. I could have taken it and drove around but then thought of the distraught I would create for its friends
Even though the farmer has mentioned that speaking to his animals is inconsequential, I think those animals would appreciate a kind word of two. The only problem is talking to hundreds of them. The farmer could become another cow and lose the forest for trees.
(I read your book and “lived” your life in the “world of yours” that I created in my mind)
]]>