I am not jealous.
Let us establish that immediately.
I am emotionally mature.
Secure.
Grounded.
I have survived winter storms, county fairs, internet fame, burnout, personal growth, and one extremely aggressive grooming session.
I do not become unsettled simply because Bonnie happens to speak to another cow.
That would be ridiculous.
Immature.
Embarrassing.
And completely beneath me.
Unfortunately...
another Highland arrived at the fence today.
And I hated him immediately.
The Stranger
He wasn't actually new to the farm.
Apparently he belongs to a neighboring pasture and had wandered toward the shared fence line.
I've seen him before.
Large.
Dark coat.
Respectable horns.
Perfectly acceptable livestock.
Never had an issue with him.
Until today.
Because today...
Bonnie noticed him.
She walked toward the fence.
He walked toward the fence.
They sniffed noses.
And then—
she laughed.
Excuse me?
What exactly was funny?
I was approximately forty feet away, so admittedly I did not hear the conversation.
But that's irrelevant.
I know comedy.
I've spent months living with a goat who thinks getting trapped inside farm equipment is a personality.
Whatever this cow said could not possibly have been that funny.
The Goat Detects Trouble
The goat appeared beside me.
Naturally.
He looked toward Bonnie.
Then toward the stranger.
Then toward me.
“Ohhhh.”
“No.”
“I didn't say anything.”
“You were going to.”
He watched my face carefully.
“You're jealous.”
“I am observing.”
“You've been observing the same cow for four minutes.”
“Pasture awareness.”
“You stopped chewing again.”
Why does everyone keep monitoring my chewing?
I resumed immediately.
Aggressively.
The goat nodded.
“Very natural.”
Leave me.
I Attempt Emotional Maturity
I remembered everything I had learned.
You cannot control other people.
You cannot build your worth around someone else's attention.
Confidence does not require constant reassurance.
Very wise.
Very healthy.
Very evolved.
Bonnie laughed again.
WHO IS THIS GUY?
I walked away.
Not dramatically.
Purposefully.
There is a difference.
Unfortunately, I walked directly into the water trough.
Not my strongest exit.
The goat collapsed.
Actually collapsed.
On the ground.
Laughing.
“This is the greatest day of my life.”
The Calf Makes It Worse
The new calf trotted over.
“Why are you mad?”
“I'm not mad.”
“You look mad.”
“This is my face.”
He looked toward Bonnie.
Then back at me.
“Do you want her to talk to you instead?”
Why are children allowed to ask questions?
“No.”
The calf stared.
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Go find grass.”
“There is grass here.”
“Different grass.”
He left reluctantly.
The Investigation
I had no intention of finding out who the stranger was.
None.
Zero.
Which is why approximately ten minutes later I happened to be grazing significantly closer to the fence.
Coincidence.
Bonnie noticed me.
“Hey.”
Casual.
I nodded.
“Hello.”
Why did I say hello like a Victorian landowner?
She gestured toward the other Highland.
“This is Jasper.”
Jasper.
Of course his name is Jasper.
He looked at me.
“So you're the fair cow.”
There it is again.
“I attended.”
Bonnie smiled.
“He won a ribbon.”
Jasper nodded.
“Nice.”
Nice?
We are apparently surrounded by animals incapable of understanding competitive agricultural achievement.
Then Bonnie added:
“He's also the one with the hair.”
Jasper looked at my dossan.
“Yeah. I can see that.”
I don't know why...
But somehow that felt disrespectful.
Then Everything Collapsed
Jasper and Bonnie continued talking.
Turns out they had come from farms in the same area.
They knew some of the same animals.
That was it.
That was the entire mysterious connection.
Nothing romantic.
Nothing dramatic.
Nothing threatening.
Just two cows discussing places they knew.
I immediately felt ridiculous.
Which I handled maturely.
By pretending I had never been concerned.
The goat, however, refused to cooperate.
He walked directly up to Bonnie.
“He was jealous.”
I nearly launched him into another zip code.
Bonnie looked at me.
I looked at the goat.
Jasper looked uncomfortable.
The calf appeared because apparently humiliation has a mailing list.
“I WAS NOT JEALOUS.”
Bonnie raised one eyebrow.
Oh no.
She's got eyebrow expressions.
Dangerous development.
“Really?”
“Correct.”
The goat coughed.
“Water trough.”
Bonnie looked confused.
I closed my eyes.
“He walked into it,” the goat explained.
Jasper started laughing.
Bonnie started laughing.
The calf started laughing because everyone else was.
Even one of the sheep made a noise that felt judgmental.
This farm has become hostile.
Bonnie Finds Me Later
I avoided society for approximately an hour.
Then Bonnie found me near the tree.
Again.
This tree has witnessed entirely too much of my personal development.
She stood beside me.
“You know you don't have to be embarrassed.”
“I walked into farm infrastructure.”
“That part was pretty embarrassing.”
Thank you, Bonnie.
She smiled.
Then nudged my shoulder lightly.
My entire nervous system filed paperwork.
“But the other part wasn't.”
I looked at her.
“What other part?”
She shrugged.
“Caring.”
Oh.
We are apparently doing emotional honesty now.
Dangerous.
I stared toward the pasture.
“I wasn't sure what I was feeling.”
Bonnie nodded.
“You don't always have to know immediately.”
Interesting.
Coming from the cow who arrived two days ago and dismantled one hundred days of carefully organized emotional philosophy.
The Question
After a moment, Bonnie looked toward me.
“Were you actually jealous?”
This was it.
The opportunity to lie.
The opportunity to protect my dignity.
The opportunity to claim pasture surveillance responsibilities.
Instead...
I sighed.
“A little.”
Bonnie smiled.
Not teasing.
Not smug.
Just warm.
Then she said:
“Good.”
GOOD?
My head turned immediately.
“Why good?”
She began walking away.
“No reason.”
“Bonnie.”
She kept walking.
“BONNIE.”
Nothing.
Just that ridiculous copper dossan moving through the evening light.
The goat appeared beside me.
“She likes you.”
I stared after her.
“Don't.”
“She definitely likes you.”
“Go away.”
He smiled.
“You admitted jealousy.”
“I admitted nothing to you.”
“I was behind the tree.”
Of course he was.
The Evening Realization
Tonight, I've been thinking about jealousy.
Not the dramatic version.
Not ownership.
Not control.
Something quieter.
Sometimes jealousy simply exposes where your feelings have already gone before your brain has agreed to acknowledge them.
Bonnie doesn't belong to me.
She can talk to whoever she wants.
Laugh with whoever she wants.
Stand beside whatever fence she wants.
And if I care about her...
Then part of caring means respecting that freedom.
Even when my stomach does something deeply inconvenient because some idiot named Jasper made her laugh.
Growth.
Annoying.
Necessary.
Official Statement:
“Caring about someone does not give you ownership of their attention.”
Final Thoughts from a Highland Cow Who Has Unfortunately Discovered Another Emotion
Three days.
Bonnie has been here three days.
In seventy-two hours I have:
Stopped chewing.
Posed unnecessarily.
Checked my reflection repeatedly.
Been publicly accused of having a crush.
Walked into a water trough.
Experienced jealousy.
Admitted jealousy.
And been emotionally manipulated by one raised eyebrow.
Winter was easier.
At least snow announces itself.
Whatever this is...
I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing.
But tonight Bonnie is standing near the far fence again.
And she just looked over here.
...
I should probably go say hello.
Casually.
No posing.
No troughs.
Until tomorrow.
Respect. The. Hair.
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