There once was a girl from LA, who grew tired of the city by day, and the city by night, she thought such a fright, that she stole with her family away.
Now 15 years later, she got an old trailer. Fixed up the truck, to try out her luck. Can we fit a milk cow in there?
Mabel the Marvelous Dancing Jersey Milk Cow endowed me with an early birthday present of soft, cuddly Dexter/Jersey bull calf. Eager to imprint my baby, in hopes of bonding and thus avoiding future confrontation, when he is 900 pounds and I am still only - never mind! I began playing with him and petting him, talking and mooing to him (cooing is for human babies - mooing is for cattle).
It took us a while to name him. My first thought was "My Precious, My Birthday Present", at which Maryruth wrinkled her nose and made gagging noises. Right. Might bode ill for the meat, anyway. If that makes no sense to you, then I can recommend some good reading and/or movies - The Lord of the Rings Trilogy - maybe you'll figure it out. If not, you'll still be seriously entertained and even better educated. Next, I suggested Daxter, at which my son, the Daxter fan, gave me a blank look and asked "Why?" So, okay, for the moment I was stumped. We did end up settling on Daxter the Dexter a few days later.
On day 2 we managed to milk Mabel and got a gallon and a half of colostrum. It didn't make much of a dent in her bag, but she looked much relieved and she sure didn't turn down the extra hay and sweet feed. She did, however, true to form, dance as we milked her. But she missed our feet, and the bucket, so we count that as victory.