Learning to Milk

My husband is a sport.   He has milked Annabelle four time since August- with me standing right there.  Tuesday night, before my mini-vacation, he did a trial run without me.  I cozy-ed up with Dizzy, That Naughty Little Mini-Horse, and spectated from a distance.

Oh, did Annabelle give him the horrors!  Not enough trouble to call her a mean cow – just enough let him know who was boss.  She lifted her foot a few times –  yes, you could call it a kick – but it didn’t have any real omph behind it.  Then she stepped back as far as she could, only stepping forward after he had re-organized pail and stool to her new spot.  Then she pranced around – testing how quickly he could move his toes and buckets.  She thought about whacking him with her tail – but didn’t.  She beat the heck out me with that tail the first two months I milked her.  Man –  she knows how to turn that seemingly benign appendage into a weapon!   For some reason she stopped her tail mid-swing and decided he didn’t need that particular punishment of hers – perhaps because it wasn’t covered in poop?!

She did treat him to her amazing hip-check-off-the-stool-move.  I never figured out how the heck she did that until the other night.  I can’t tell you how many times I found myself sitting on the floor with no clue how she did it – flipped me right off the stool as fast as you could blink.  Whoosh!  I thought it was some sort of hip check but know now she swings her mammoth Jersey belly into motion – ba-da-dang- ba-da- BOOM – off the stool goes the milker!  Ha!

Fortunately my DH came off the floor laughing or I might not have gotten my break.  It would be hard to be mad at such a skillful move but it is a tad bit frightening to be on the receiving end of such skill from such a large beast.

Tuesday was the only night she put out this kind of effort.  He kept with it and she never tried anything like it with him again.  Hip-hip-hurray- I can occasionally get away!

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