Garden-variety cows

The other day Walt looked out of the living room window and began this out-of-control barking. Despite his level of insistence, I figured it was one of the usual suspects -- usually a cat, raccoon, rabbit, or squirrel, but sometimes a deer. The living room windows look out on a small patio at the foot of a steep hill covered with wild grasses and trees. Craig looked out the window too and announced matter-of-factly: "There are cows in our yard."

You don't expect cows in the suburbs, so naturally I was surprised. Not as surprised as I would have been when I lived "in town" (despite the line about farms in Berkeley), but surprised enough to step out the door to take a look myself. Sure enough: four cows. Three black, one red and white, about 20 feet up the hill, peacefully eating grass.

Craig announced his intentions to climb up the hill to show Isaac the cows. I thought that was nuts. The cows were eyeing us suspiciously by now, or maybe they were just objecting to Walt's continued barking. Then Craig remembered that Isaac had already met a cow -- a huge Texas longhorn steer on the sidewalk in San Antonio -- and he hadn't been impressed, so thankfully there was no need to risk life and limb to show him garden-variety cows.

For closure: I called the sheriff (seriously, that's who you call for loose livestock), but by the time they got here the cows had wandered off to parts unknown.