Holy Cow

24 HEADLINE: COW JUMPS OVER MOON

(followed by a pig and a turkey)

It was a nice night, temperature in the sixties, cloudless sky, no chance of rain. Just the sound of my hooves on the grass and the occasional “Oy, my mouth is so dry, does anybody have a hard candy?” from Shalom. We walked in silence for a good long while; I think we must have all been in awe of the moment. “Seventy-five million people, life expectancy, 71.1 years-I’m gonna live to be 71.1!” The gobbler was googling facts about Turkey on the phone-“Did you know that Turkey has been inhabited since the Paleolithic age?” No, we did not. “For the Daily Double [see Trebek, Alex]-does its location at the crossroads of Europe and Asia make it a country of significant geostrategic significance?” Nobody cared. “The answer is-hells yeah! Go Turkey, go Turkey, it’s your birthday!”

Shalom held up a hoof. “Ssshhh, listen, did you hear that?”

We listened-crickets, not much else-and then the silence was broken by the howling of a wolf in the distance. Shalom looked at me, like Oh shit. I said that that howl seemed at least a mile away and not to worry, but inside I was very concerned. It’s one thing to hear the baying of a wolf and think it’s gorgeous when you’re safe inside a locked compound protected by men and dogs, but it’s a different ball game when there’s nothing but the night air between you and that wild animal. I had always considered myself wild, but tonight I wasn’t sure. “Turkey has had a president since 1923, maybe I’ll make a run at it.” Jesus. “The waters in Turkey are the Bosphorus and the Sea of Marmara-isn’t that a beautiful word… Mar-mar-a… Mar-mar-”

Shalom had had enough. “Stop with the fun facts about Turkey already. You’re gonna use that phone so much, the battery’s gonna die and then what’ll we do, Einstein?”

“Fine,” Tom said, but he couldn’t help himself. “Turkey’s motto is ‘The country unconditionally belongs to the nation.’ I don’t know what that means, but me likey. Okay, okay, turning it off, powering down.”

We walked on, talking loudly about silly stuff to show one another how not scared we were, laughing a little too loudly at jokes, as the howling seemed to get closer and closer. We had covered about two miles, when a shape differentiated itself from the night about ten yards ahead of us, blocking our path-like it had been invisible one moment and the next moment visible, like the darkness itself had taken form.

The form of a wolf. A lone wolf. “Well, well, well,” said the wolf, with a wolfish grin.

Shalom immediately soiled himself. “Sorry,” he said, “nervous pooper.” I had never been in a fight before, let alone a fight to the death, but something told me I was going to be in one tonight.