Category: Animals


Doggie Buffet!

Every neighborhood has one right?…The dog that won’t stay out of everyone’s garbage?  We happen to be so lucky as to have two.  The other day I happened to look out the front window and saw one of the critters actually inside of my garbage can.  A few years back, the county I live in went to what we call the “Black Beauties”.  Everyone has these huge plastic garbage cans with wheels.  Anyway I am not sure if the dog tipped the can over or if the garbage truck did when it put it down, but all I could see was the dog’s butt.  That was a new strategy, I have to admit.

Our nightmare happened on Monday, January 2.  We thought the garbage people had the day off to celebrate the New Year. No, they showed up and  half the street didn’t have their cans up to the road.  This was right after Christmas and everyone  had extra garbage.  So we had to take to inconspicuously stacking it by the side door until the next week’s pickup.  Unfortunately “Sherlock and Watson” found the garbage yesterday.  I wasn’t sure at first it was the dogs until later.

When leaving for school, I saw a box where it shouldn’t have been.  I came home, picked up the box and stuck it in the garbage.  Later that afternoon I left to run my son up the street and saw a somewhat nicely laid out buffet on my front lawn.  Salsa, oranges and chocolate milk.  As we were pulling out of the driveway and seeing various pieces of garbage scattered up the driveway, I was mumbling and threatening the culprits.  As we got to the top of the drive, I saw “Sherlock” making her way down the road.  My son had made the comment that the two of them were “working” the street.  One on one side and one on the other, although we only saw “Sherlock”.  I watched her as I pulled out of the driveway and sure enough she returned to the scene of the crime.  I floored it to get back home before more garbage was strewn up the driveway.

When we returned “Watson” had showed up, thus verifying the “working the streets” theory.  When she saw us, she hauled butt out of there.  

One time “Sherlock” left a cow head on our lawn.  Yes..you heard me right a cow head.  My husband threw it in the trash.  Do you know how many times I was startled by that head when I opened that can?

I would like to hide something in the garbage can that would literally scare the crap right out of the next dog that attempted theft.  Something spring-loaded, so that when that lid was moved…. Although, I think I would be the first to get it right in the keester.  I would forget and open it. I know I would.  Got to put the mind in gear to come up with something to deter them.  I will market it with my crapapult and make millions.

I know a lot of people have seen the website “The People of Wal-Mart”.  I have lived “The People of Wal-Mart”.  The things I have seen in this store……

I have wondered what it is that attracts people like that and what makes them think that they can wear what they wear in public.  There should be laws about this kind of stuff.

My children make me laugh all the time.  Somethings I probably shouldn’t laugh at.  I try hard not to, but sometimes the things they say just come from out of nowhere without any type of warning they are coming.  Take for instance one day we were at our local Wal-Mart and there was gal wearing a pair of sweats with “PINK” stamped across the butt.   All of a sudden my kids were laughing extremely loud and uncontrollably.  To this day no one will admit who it was that noticed this first, but this girl had a serious wedgy.  Unfortunately for her, the “N” in the word “PINK” was stuck in the wedgy thus creating the new word “PIK”.  At this point we had to quickly move to another area of the store before dying of laughter in front of the poor girl.  I wanted to help, but it was complicated.

Then there was the day that we were in the food department and some people were there with their dog.  If this dog was a “service” dog, it was not marked in any way.  It was a Labrador.  I happened to look out of the corner of my eye and noticed that the couple had stopped and the lady was walking back down to where they had previously been.  I know this because as in the story of Hansel and Gretel…their dog had left a trail of dog poop to find its way back to the meat department.  This was messed up on many levels and in fact, I could not make myself buy any food. I had to leave.  Just wrong…just wrong.

Another Wal-Mart moment was walking past the checkout and my son starts laughing.  I couldn’t hear him, but I could feel him bumping up against me.  I turned to see what the heck was going on and he pointed in the other direction….If there was a plumber’s crack olympics….hands down this guy would have taken the gold.  I ask myself…”Can they not feel the draft?”

I remember seeing a woman one day that baffles me still to this day.  I cannot for the life of me figure out how this woman got her hair to do what it was doing.  It was standing up straight like a buzz cut only the hair was longer than what a buzz would have been and the ends were grouped in small bunches and had a small curl on top.  It was the weirdest hair do I have ever seen.

One of the most disturbing things I have ever seen, that may have actually warranted a call to the “Perv” cops.  My son and I were shopping for some socks in the men’s department.  We happened over toward an area where there were belts, etc.  and there stood this guy wearing a pair of shorts, he had removed his shirt and was looking around suspiciously.  He actually looked like he had started removing his shorts.  I thought for sure that my son and I were going to get exposed to something that we didn’t want to see, so I turned grabbing my kid and headed the opposite direction as fast as I could.  This one still disturbs me to this day.

Then one day, I got run over by a lady who was driving one of those motorized carts.  It wouldn’t have been so bad except that she didn’t say sorry or anything. She was not looking at all where she was going.  Glad I didn’t go all the way down to the ground.  That would have been awkward.  Some people should have to take a course before getting into one of these.

Then there was the day that a kid perhaps 9 years old came ripping through the ladies department on one of those carts going as fast as he could while laughing and looking behind him.  Soon his sister appeared yelling at him that “Mom was going to kill him if he didn’t stop and return the cart.  That was a moment that I thought, “I am so glad that is not my son”.

All I can learn from all of these experiences is that I have spent waaayyy too much time at Wal-Mart.  I am near having to pay my children to go to that store with me.  They all hate it.  If you think that you are weird in any way, go to Wal-Mart you will soon find that you are not as weird as you might think or perhaps you are not alone in this vast world of odd ducks.

Wanted: “Crap”apult

Years ago we put a nice fence around the back yard.  I won’t go into the main reason, but a nice side effect has been….no dog poo in the front yard.  We actually had a place we could go without worrying about stepping in poop.  At least I thought so.

Today I was out trying to get my yard all ready for the winter.  I was guiding my son on how to trim one of my trees when I caught a whiff of “death”.  It made my eyes water it smelled so bad.  I looked down and just inches from my foot was a pile of poo that would make an elephant’s pile pale in comparison.

I stood with my mouth hanging open because quite honestly..I have NEVER seen a pile of dog poo that big.  The smell was a dead giveaway for what kind of animal left it.  As I sent my son after a shovel to dispose of it amid complaints, I came across a few more piles of it.  This is unacceptable.

We are surrounded by five acres of open field and a dog decides to take a dump in my front yard.  Before our fence was up, our well-mannered dog would go clear out into the field to do her duty.  I appreciated that.  That was enough to make her worth the money we paid for her.  I would have died if I would  have ever found her at the neighbors leaving her calling card in their yard.   A couple of hours after cleaning it up, we kept having “phantom scents”.  My son kept swearing he could smell it.  We were checking everyone’s shoes, but no doo in site.  We will be haunted by this smell for days to come.

I am 99% sure of what dog did it and where it lives.  Since lighting fire to a bag of poo and flinging at something would be considered illegal, that option is off the table for “returning” the favor.  I decided that I need to make a catapult with a scope that I could actually aim with to achieve 90% accuracy or higher.  I wanted to call it the “Crapapult”, but someone has already thought of that idea.

Perhaps I could call it the “Dung Flunger” .  I don’t know, but I do know this, when I catch this dog doing it’s thing again in my yard I will return the gift back where it came from.  I don’t know how, when or where but it will happen.  I am going to collect it in a bag over the course of a few weeks and then when it gets nice and ripe and the bag is full, it is going “home”.  I know I don’t sound like a patient person and I know that it is hard to train dogs to do their jobs where they should.  Multiple repeat offenses have led me to the edge of the tether so to speak.

Wow…wait…did I just say all of that out loud?  Oooops:)

When you look up the word communicable you find this definition: Able to be transmitted from one sufferer to another; contagious or infectious.  Let me emphasise the word SUFFERER.

I detest cats.  I will be the first to admit that.  I am sorry to all cat lovers, but I have had a strong dislike for them since the age of three when I tried to pull a wild kitten out from underneath our house and nearly got my eyes scratched out of my cranial cavity.  I had never seen anything so small be so vicious.  That began my lifelong hostility toward the species.

I told my husband this morning, “When I get to the other side, I am going to ask God other than catching mice what real purpose do cats have?”  I am sure he cringed, because he used to be a cat person.  If I had been Pharoah and the first plague Moses sent was cats, he would have wasted no time on me.  I would have given them all airline tickets to fly where ever they wanted just to be rid of the cats.

Cats were a topic of disagreement when my husband and I first got married.  I nearly ended the relationship before we got married when I walked into his home the first time and saw a long-haired, four-legged epidemic walking around.  I nearly gagged.  My mother detested cats as much or more so than I.  Seeing a cat in the house was next to the sin of murder for her.  In her older years, she did soften enough to take my brother’s cat in because my sister-in-law had become allergic.  She just agreed to keep it at the house, not in the house. Which was a switch for “Tom” because he had always been an indoor cat.  This was during a remodeling project and my mother went to bed one night to find that the cat had snuck in and had curled up and went to sleep on her bed.  I can’t even begin to explain the sound that came from her or the sound from the cat when they discovered each other.  Wasn’t pretty.

In LDS wards, the ladies are asked to watch over other ladies in the ward.  We make regular visits to check up on them to make sure they are O.K. and if they need anything.  When I was four years old, my mother was given a lady to visit.  I think my mom was the only woman in the ward that would actually go because this woman had 50 cats. They all lived in her house.  Since I was not in school, I went with my mom.  I remember standing on the sidewalk, putting on the breaks and screaming that I was not going into that house.  I couldn’t stand the smell.  It almost made me barf.  Bless my poor mother’s soul, she was still faithful and checked up on this woman consistently despite that fact that she detested cats more than I.

These two events alone have solidified my dislike for felines in every sense of the word.  I would never hurt one, but I sure as heck don’t want to see them, smell them or touch them.  I am allergic so that helps.

Before I got married I worked with a lady that owned cats.  I am not sure if she even realized the smell that accompnaied her.  Even her breath  smelled like a cat crawled in her mouth and died.  She would come to my desk and use my phone and I would go to pick it up to use afterward and dry heave.  I felt bad for her because everyone mentioned the smell permiating off of her.  I don’t think she even noticed.

A few years ago, on a hot summer’s day I got into my suburban one morning to go somewhere and realized that two cats had been in my vehicle.  One, for the smell and two for the pile of poo laying on the floor.  Carp hit the fan.  For weeks and weeks and weeks that smell lingered, slapping me in the face every time I got in to drive.  We went through every kind of chemical known to mankind to remove that smell.  Nothing got rid of it.  That was the first time I had seriously considered murdering any of God’s creations.

As of late, I have come out to find paw prints on my Durango.  This is unacceptable people.  We live in the country where everyone in the city thinks that everyone in the country needs and wants a cat.  Nay nay people. 

I have taught my pugs to dislike cats.  The only thing that has sunk into their flat heads.  When a cat comes on the TV, they go nuts.  They think they are real. It is really entertaining.

Well…the other night we came home to find this “disease” walking around my house.  I warned my children not to touch, not to look at, not to pick up and not to feed.  Those are the ways that “diseases” stick around and you never get rid of them. 

My daughter, despite my protests wanted to catch it.  She couldn’t leave well enough alone, she had to show the pug the cat.  Well, you would have thought the world was coming to an end.  I didn’t know pugs could make that kind of sound.  Both of them started tearing up the house trying to get out.  When we finally let them out the back door, one of them nearly parted the planks on the deck trying to take off.

When we finally got them back into the house, Lola was still going nuts.  She ran around the house like there was so evil force pushing her to commit suicide.  It was weird.  To prove my point, I was trying to do laundry and she came barreling out into the laundry room all in a tizzy and jumped into the dryer.  I am not sure if she had a brain lapse and thought it was the back door open or what.  She has never done anything like that.  I stood there dumbfounded.  That cat has messed her up big time.

This morning it is still hanging around.  Trying to rub up against me.  Yuck!  It might as well urinate on me. That is so disgusting.  My children, bless their hearts, have such tender feelings for all animals.  I just don’t share the love with cats.  My son wanted to build it a home to keep it out of the rain.  I told him when they were created they had no shelter.  They don’t need one now.  It is just one more step in that cat’s mind of taking over my home.  Not going to happen.  I will not yield! You will have to put me and the dogs in a padded cell or we will hurt someone or something.

Redneck Roundup

We live on a farm.  Have we ever farmed? No.  Well take that back, about 15 years ago we had a small head of cattle we thought we would try our hands out on.  These cows were fine until they got bigger and decided to get out one Sunday.  I left for church leaving my husband behind.  The last I saw of him as I was pulling out was him scaling the fence in his suit.  When he eventually showed up to church he was wearing something different.  I didn’t want to know what happened because he was already mad, but I was stupid enough to ask anyway.  He had split out his pants climbing  the fence.  We sold the cows and and partied hard on the money we got for them.

That has been the extent of farming.  We have either let someone else use the land for farming or else did nothing with it.  We have sworn off renting to anyone with animals.

Cowboys and roundups are synonymous.  Roundups involves getting on a horse and herding the animals from one grazing area to another.  This usually takes more than one cowboy to accomplish this task.  Many times we will have a road shut down for a bunch of cows.

Some cowboys are on the trails for days or even weeks.  But, not my husband.  He tried his hand today at rounding up cattle that perhaps cowboys might want to take a lesson from.

My husband’s car is the butt of many jokes in this house.  We call it the “Grandma Car” because it is the kind old people drive. He uses it for work and it truly is a piece of carp.  It has a huge dent in one side with the paint scraped off.  We have gotten our $500 out of it though. None of the kids want to ride in it and my son had to take it for his driver’s test because my truck’s air compressor went out.  He was dying, in fact he apologized to the cop for him having to ride in it.

I came home from school today and noticed there were tire marks going across the lawn and into the field.  I came in to the house and asked my husband who had been driving through the field.  He told me he went on a cattle drive.   He had come home and found a few cows in the yard.  Instead of getting out of the car and chasing them home, he decided that “grandma” would be more effective.

Knowing my husband, this would  not have been a quiet drive through the country.  He is a fairly patient individual, but even patient people have their moments of aggrevation. I am sure there are huge patches of earth torn up from “grandma’s”  acceleration abilities.   We have a few acres of land and I am not entirely sure how many of those acres were covered by him and “grandma” today, the tire marks disappear after a point.  I really quit asking questions after awhile because I figure what I don’t know I don’t have to confess to.  The next step is to buy my husband a cowboy hat, a pair of boots, some chaps and a new oil pan.

My kids better NEVER say anything to me again about “herding” with the BB gun.  Oh, and by the way….Grandma isn’t for sale, so don’t call the number.  I am not exactly sure who the number belongs to.

PETA Reform School

I am opening up a PETA reform school.  It will be held right here at my house.  Guaranteed or your money back!

I am a true believer that God put animals on this earth for our enjoyment and for our sustenance.  There are animals to enjoy and animals to eat.  There are actually some that border in between, but I am not going to discuss cats right now.  I will take that up with the Boss when I get to heaven.

The ” Mr. Hyde”  in me has started to resurface after a few months of dormancy.  My children have turned to hiding my weapons of attack and banned me from using theirs.  What is this world coming to that the children rule the house?  Anyway, I need to explain the situation.

As of late, I have been having an animal control problem.    This didn’t just start last week, this has been going on for years.  Hence the reason why my patience has grown thin.

When the problem first started, I would patiently go out and shew the animals (goats, cows, horses, chickens, ducks, pigs, pot belly pig) back into their yard.  One particular week, I put 5 cows back into their yard 7  times in one day.  This problem has gone on for years.  I would come home and find my newly planted trees chewed to the ground.  I would find goats in apple tree stripping the branches clean.  One day it was so bad with the goats that I came home to find my sister, who lived across the street at the time, sitting in my front yard in a lawn chair.  I asked her what was up and she told me she had chased the goats out 4 times and decided to stay to protect my trees until we got home.

Another week I was constantly chasing 6 piglets out of my yard.  They would burrow in my flowers and destroy them.  As these piglets got bigger, they became more of a pain.  My husband got his gallbladder out and the first night home, he heard the dog barking and found the pigs burrowing up our septic tank. They made their way through the neighborhood burrowing up three septic tanks.  Our grass unfortunately has never grown back.  My husband could have done some serious damage to himself running around like that after just having surgery.  He was up most of the night because the pigs kept coming back.

This forced us to put a fence around our back yard.  It cost us a lot of money, but we were also losing money with damaged property.  We finally had to not rent our land out anymore because of the lack of animal control.  You would have thought that this would have solved the problem, um….no.  We left the fence around the field, but would still find various animals in the yard.  I have gotten pretty tired of finding cow, goat and horse poo in my grass, chicken and duck poo on the sidewalk, and duck and chicken eggs laying wherever they are dropped.

This my dear friends has turned Dr. Jekyl into Mr. Hyde.  The week we had problems with the pigs, I decided that nice wasn’t working.  Pigs can be scary and mean, so I brought out my trusty slingshot.  Actually I admit, I bought it specifically with the pigs in mind.  One windy day, my dog started barking and here came the herd of pigs headed right for our yard.  I grabbed a bunch of rocks and ran to the outside and hid behind a shed.  I didn’t want to get attacked, nor did I want witnesses to what I was about to do.  Rocks don’t fly well with slingshots.  You can’t determine their accuracy because of their odd shapes.  Consider that a warning.  I loaded and pulled to release only to hit the shed at close range (2 inches) and the rock came back and hit my thumb.  I seriously thought I broke it.  I went into my bedroom to lick my wounds and to hide my indiscretions from my kids.  I didn’t want them knowing I had been shooting at the pigs.  I ended up having to go to the medical clinic and was horrified when the doctor asked me how it happened.  I asked him, “Do I really have to say?”  He told me it would help to determine damage I did.  I thought the doctor was going to fall on the floor laughing.  That was a first for him.  Had never treated an injury that had happened like that before.  Then I got ripped into by my daughter when we got in the car who told me that I should not have been shooting them to begin with.   A few months later, she and my husband had a run in with the pot belly pig that fenced him and her.  My husband’s weapon of choice…..flyswatter.  What?  That doesn’t work.  He and my daughter had to climb the fence to get away and I look out the window to see them both on top and my husband swinging at the pig with a flyswatter.   As the pig was going at their legs.

This began my “life of crime”.  I realized that no slingshot was going to work for me.  So, I purchased a BB gun at a garage sell.  This BB gun was only $6.  It turned out costing us $156 because my son shot the window out of our suburban the day I bought the gun.  This was not good.  This day, my husband was Mr. Hyde.  I seriously saved my son’s life this day.  He still owes me for that.

I practiced and practiced until I have became quite proficient with the BB gun.  I nailed a critter climbing my apple tree from about 200 feet away.  Of course that took about 30 pumps to get it that far.  I found that shooting the BB gun was a lot more affective and I didn’t have to run or get kicked, attacked, or stepped on.  It got to where all I would have to do is pump  the gun and the animals would start running.  I called them Pavlov’s critters because I trained them to run at the sound.  Now I have only one rule.  I only aim for the butt.  If I don’t have a good shot at the butt, I don’t take it.  I don’t want to mame the poor critters.  So I still do have some shred of decency left in me. (I just envisioned the scene where Luke Skywalker is telling Vader that there is still some good him and he knows he can be reformed).

My kids have nearly put a stop to all my madness, to the likes of which I am extremely disappointed.  As of this past week, we have been running a cattle day spa in my yard.  I will leave, come home and find various cows laying in the shade of my lawn asleep.  All they are missing are the cucumbers slices over their eyes and the mud packs on their faces.  They’ve got it on their butts….well, I don’ t think that is mud.  If one of my  kids are with me, the first thing they say is…”You are not going to shoot it”.  What?  There is no fun in that.  Yesterday, I found out that one of my sons went out and tried physically pushing them out of the yard.  They wouldn’t budge.  So I don’t know why I am catching so much carp from these people.  BB guns work, nothing else does.

Last night, we had a cow hanging with his ” homey”  in the yard and I went for my BB gun.  It was no where to be found.  This folks….is highly suspicious.  My son absolutely refused to let me use his and “didn’t” know where mine was.  So I told him that he could go get them out of the yard then.  Yeah, that didn’t work.

I had to take him and my other son to work and came home to find the “gang” still in the yard.  This time……it was only my husband and I and I went for the gun, swearing an oath of secrecy between the both of us.  I get this kind of evil giggle when I nail them in the butt.  I don’t know why I find that so funny.  That is kind of messed up I guess.  My husband came into my daughter’s bedroom finding me in the sniper position shooting out of her window.  It was working great.  That cow’s speed was quite impressive.  Didn’t know cows could run that fast.  I managed to keep them out until this morning.  They are back, like a bad nightmare.

So I have torn my house apart and cannot find my gun.  I do have a Walther P22 if worse comes to worse, but I won’t kill an animal unless it is going to kill me or one of my kids.  It might get a lot uglier around this house before it gets prettier.  Because if I can’t find my BB gun, carp is going to fly and everyone better watch out.  My  children think I am evil.  My husband yells,”Get the gun” at me every time something is in the yard.  I am trying to come to terms with who I really am Dr. Jekyl or Mr. Hyde or…who I want to be.  I have to admit, the thrill of the target does get the old heart beating faster.

Have Dog? Must Ride!

When I was a young kid, I wanted a horse just like every other kid.  Unfortunately I had to settle for the family dog.  He was a very big labrador named Duke.  Duke had many qualities, none of which really deserve bragging about, but he did have one amazing talent.  You could throw a rock to the moon and that dog would retrieve the exact rock and bring it back.  This was field tested many times and he never missed.  I was about six years old with a wild imagination and decided that Duke was really big enough to saddle up and ride.  Of course, I wasn’t stupid enough to be the one to get on but somehow I managed to get my 9-year-old sister to get on.  So we tied a rope around Duke’s head and my sister climbed on.  The one thing she did not take into consideration was my diabolical mind.  Once she was seated, I wanted to see if she could ride so I picked up a rock and threw it as far as a six-year-old could.  Duke took off, I would say 0-60 in about 5 1/2 seconds, with my sister hanging on and screaming for dear life.  Duke had the best pair of “brakes” I had ever seen on a dog.  When he stopped, it was on the spot.  Well this left my sister as a flying projectile.  Of course the minute she came to the end of the rope she was tied too, she dropped straight to the ground.  I could not contain my laughter even after she told me that I was going to get it from Mom.  After dragging me back to the house screaming, we opened the door to see my mother literally on the floor with tears spilling down her face.  I guess she had seen the whole incident and thought it was a lot more funny than what my sister did.  I escaped a kick to the butt that day.

I was thinking about this story when I remembered a story my brother-in-law told us of a dog-riding monkey.  I cannot begin to tell a tale like he.  I don’t have the right cowboy accent nor the animation associated with his storytelling.  I will try my best to relate the story.

Years ago, he was attending a rodeo where the halftime show was a dog-riding monkey.  They would strap this little fellow to the back of a dog and that dog would run a course with the monkey never falling off.  Well this particular day, something went terribly wrong.  When the dog came into the arena to start the show, something caught the dogs attention and threw it off course with the monkey still astride his back.  The dog, with no thought as to what was strapped on his back, proceeded to run under a truck whacking the monkey’s head on the axles and thus knocking said monkey out.   The dog came out from under the truck still going at a good clip, the monkey was still attached and bouncing around like a limp rag.  The dog didn’t stop there, he ran under another truck as if he was chasing an imaginary cat or something.  It took awhile for them to get to dog stopped to administer medical treatment to the monkey.  Yes, the monkey did live through it.  Although he probably turned in his two-week once conscience.

I know it is horrible to laugh at something like this, but it just goes to show you that even the best, well-trained dogs have brain-farts once in a while and nothing should ever be strapped to their back.  Whether that be a monkey or a child.

So, for about three weeks now I have been having a turf war with the neighbors cow.  I am a somewhat patient person, but even this has pushed this mother’s buttons to the limit.  I find myself thinking very evil thoughts more often which is not becoming of my character.  Just two days ago I thought, “I would like to tie an anchor onto that cow’s neck and drop kick it into the well”.  Or there was this thought, “I would like to put that cow into the neighbors front yard and let it roam and eat all of their trees and flowers”.  Or how about the day I came home and it was standing in my driveway trying to take on my car.  I reved the engine and it pawed the ground.  I wasn’t having it.  I gassed it and flew at the cow slamming on the brakes at the last minute.  It had a small affect on it.  Then it was back.

No matter how many times, my neighbor has seen his cow out, he does nothing to put it up.  This has become very frustrating to me.  So yesterday like a good neighbor, I chased the cow about a mile away from it’s home with a loaded BB gun.  I thought it would get lost in the other neighbor’s corn field along with the group of chickens we chased in there a couple of days ago…..but no….it still came back.  Like a horrible stray cat that keeps showing up on your front porch and you can’t get rid of.  You take it for a drive…it comes back….you run it over…..it still comes back….you don’t feed it…..it still stays.

The cow hears the pumping of the BB gun and starts running.  You would think that it would eventually put two and two together and realize when it comes to the “greener side of the fence”, it is going to feel pain.

If it was the old west, that cow would now belong to me or it would have been shot by me and ate for dinner.  I wonder if an animal spends a certain amount of time on someone else’s property if that animal’s ownership transfers over to a new owner.  Ponder that one for the law books.