There is a rumor circulating around the farm.
It is false.
Completely fabricated.
Unsupported by evidence.
Potentially defamatory.
And the goat started it.
Obviously.
The Morning Announcement
I woke this morning feeling surprisingly normal.
Bonnie had been here one day.
One.
I had spoken to her twice.
Yes, I may have noticed her hair.
Yes, I may have briefly forgotten how chewing works.
And yes, we stood together at sunset.
These are facts.
They are not a relationship.
Apparently the goat disagrees.
I walked toward breakfast and found him standing on top of a hay bale addressing the sheep.
“ATTENTION.”
Oh no.
“I have an important announcement regarding developments within pasture leadership.”
I stopped walking.
The sheep stared blankly.
The calf looked fascinated.
The chickens continued whatever criminal operation they conduct every morning.
The goat cleared his throat.
“Our beloved Hair King has fallen in love.”
WHAT.
The Immediate Correction
“No.”
Every animal turned toward me.
The goat smiled.
“Oh, good. You're here.”
“I am not in love.”
One sheep sneezed.
The goat nodded knowingly.
“Denial. Stage one.”
“There are no stages.”
“Defensiveness. Stage two.”
“I WILL PUT YOU THROUGH THE FENCE.”
“Passion. Stage three.”
This is why civilization fails.
Bonnie Heard Everything
Naturally…
Bonnie walked around the barn at precisely the wrong moment.
“What's going on?”
Nobody spoke.
I looked at the goat.
The goat looked at me.
The sheep suddenly became extremely interested in grass.
The calf whispered:
“He likes you.”
I need a new farm.
Bonnie looked at me.
I looked at the calf.
The calf realized perhaps he had made a tactical error and slowly backed away.
Bonnie's mouth twitched slightly.
“Does he?”
“No.”
Too fast.
Far too fast.
I corrected myself.
“I mean—not that there's anything wrong with—you're perfectly—”
Stop.
STOP TALKING.
Bonnie tilted her head.
I attempted recovery.
“The goat has created a fictional narrative based on limited observational data.”
There.
Intelligent.
Controlled.
Respectable.
Bonnie looked toward the goat.
The goat nodded solemnly.
“He stopped chewing when she arrived.”
Traitor.
Bonnie laughed.
Again.
And once again, I discovered that I enjoy that sound more than is medically advisable.
The Hair Situation Escalates
After breakfast, I made another mistake.
I checked my reflection in the water trough.
Just once.
Possibly twice.
Four times maximum.
The goat appeared beside me.
“Getting ready for someone?”
“No.”
“You're fluffing.”
“I am maintaining.”
“You never maintain before nine.”
“I have standards.”
“You have a crush.”
“I HAVE A DOSSAN.”
These are completely different things.
Unfortunately, while arguing with him, I failed to notice Bonnie approaching.
She stopped beside the trough.
“Looks fine to me.”
I froze.
“What?”
“Your hair.”
She took a drink.
“You've been fixing it for five minutes.”
Five?
Absolutely not.
Three and a half.
Maybe four.
I tried to appear casual.
“The wind caused structural complications.”
Bonnie looked toward the trees.
There was no wind.
Not even a leaf moved.
I stared at the trees.
Betrayal.
Bonnie Is Suspiciously Comfortable
Here's another problem.
Bonnie has adjusted to the farm immediately.
No nervous pacing.
No dramatic adjustment period.
No identity crisis.
She simply…
Lives.
This morning she found the best patch of shade without asking anyone.
By noon, she had discovered which section of fence visitors usually gather around.
By afternoon, she had apparently befriended the calf.
And somehow…
The goat.
I found the two of them standing near the barn.
Bonnie was scratching her neck against the fence post.
The goat was explaining my entire history.
“…then he wanted to move to Florida.”
I nearly sprinted.
“We are NOT discussing Florida.”
Bonnie's eyes widened.
“You wanted to move to Florida?”
“It was winter.”
The goat continued.
“Then he found out about hurricanes.”
“Enough.”
“And humidity.”
“GOAT.”
“And that's when he realized Florida could compromise the hair.”
Bonnie stared at me.
I waited for judgment.
Instead she said:
“Honestly? Fair.”
…
Oh.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
The Visitors Notice
Things became worse around lunchtime when visitors arrived.
One of the regular women noticed Bonnie immediately.
“Oh! Who's the new girl?”
The farmer introduced her.
Then the woman looked between Bonnie and me.
Then smiled.
That smile.
I know that smile.
Humans make that smile when they have invented a storyline without permission.
“Ohhh,” she said.
No.
Absolutely not.
There will be no “ohhh.”
Another visitor whispered:
“They're cute together.”
WE WERE STANDING NEAR THE SAME WATER TROUGH.
By this logic, I am romantically involved with half the pasture.
The goat appeared beside the fence.
“It's early.”
I nearly left my physical body.
The Conversation I Wasn't Expecting
Late this afternoon, Bonnie found me alone near the old tree.
She stood beside me quietly for a moment.
Then said:
“You know I don't care about the rumor, right?”
I glanced toward her.
“I assumed.”
“The goat's ridiculous.”
“Yes.”
“He told me he's your manager.”
“He is not.”
“Publicist?”
“No.”
“Assistant Spiritual Coordinator?”
I closed my eyes.
“He appointed himself.”
Bonnie laughed.
Then she became quiet.
“I know what it's like being new somewhere,” she said.
There was something different in her voice.
Less playful.
For the first time since she arrived, she didn't look completely fearless.
“I just don't want everyone deciding who I'm supposed to be before they actually know me.”
That landed.
Hard.
Because I understood that feeling.
More than she knew.
The fair.
The article.
The merchandise.
The visitors.
Everyone had created versions of me.
Famous cow.
Wise cow.
Hair King.
Survivor.
But underneath all of those things…
I was still just me.
So I told her:
“They'll calm down.”
She looked toward the goat.
He was wearing an overturned feed scoop on his head.
“Will he?”
“No.”
We both laughed.
The Important Part
Then Bonnie said something that completely dismantled my afternoon.
“For what it's worth…”
She paused.
I waited.
“…I like talking to you.”
Oh.
OH.
Remain calm.
We have survived blizzards.
We have survived judging rings.
We have survived public emotional development.
We can survive one sentence.
“I like talking to you too.”
There.
Normal.
Healthy.
Adult.
Excellent work.
Then Bonnie smiled.
And my heart performed what I can only describe as an unauthorized livestock maneuver.
She walked away.
I remained under the tree.
Staring forward.
Processing.
The goat appeared approximately eight seconds later.
“So.”
I didn't turn around.
“Leave.”
“She likes talking to you.”
“I heard her.”
“You like talking to her.”
“Correct.”
“So technically—”
“GO.”
He left.
Eventually.
The Sunset Problem
Tonight, Bonnie was standing near the far fence again.
Same place as yesterday.
I considered joining her.
Then stopped myself.
Not because I didn't want to.
Because something Bonnie said earlier stayed with me.
She didn't want everyone deciding what she was supposed to be.
Neither did I.
So maybe this doesn't need a label.
Maybe it doesn't need a storyline.
Maybe two cows can simply enjoy standing beside each other while the sun goes down.
I walked over.
Bonnie glanced toward me.
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
And that was it.
No performance.
No dramatic conversation.
We just stood there.
Although approximately thirty feet behind us, the goat whispered loudly to the calf:
“THIS IS HOW IT STARTS.”
I heard him.
I chose growth.
Official Statement:
“Not everything meaningful needs to be defined before it has time to become something.”
Final Thoughts from a Highland Cow Who Is Absolutely Not Confirming Anything at This Time
There is no romance.
There is no relationship.
There is no official pasture couple.
There is simply Bonnie.
And me.
And two sunsets.
And several conversations.
And one compliment about my hair.
And apparently I know exactly where she is in the pasture at almost all times.
Which means nothing.
Probably.
Tomorrow, I will behave normally.
Completely normally.
I will eat breakfast.
I will mind my business.
I will not check my reflection.
And I certainly will not care whether Bonnie notices me.
Absolutely not.
...
I should probably fix the left side of my dossan before breakfast though.
Just generally.
For myself.
Until tomorrow.
Respect. The. Hair.
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