A lot of people ask me why I love cows so much. My question is: why would I not? Cows are adorable, especially the fluffy ones. I don’t really know why I love them, but I do know when it started. In sixth grade, I discovered some cows behind my neighborhood, and I just thought it was the coolest thing. I’d go back almost every day. As lame as it sounds, I’d love taking my friends to go watch the cows. Ever since that time, I won’t eat cows either. I’ve never really enjoyed the taste much, so it wasn’t much of a loss. However, I am not a vegetarian. A lot of people believe that at first, but I eat plenty of chicken and bacon.

I imagine myself in the future with a cow. I know having one wouldn’t be practical, considering my dream is to live in a big city. I could get one when I go to college next year and keep it in my dorm. That sounds like a fantastic plan. I’ll name her Peaches, and she can be friends with my goldfish Taco. They can hang out when I’m not there. Peaches will need someone to comfort her because of the world’s expectations of her. I’ll put sparkles on her black spots to make her feel special and because sparkles are my favorite. I’ll feed her candy because that’s the main source of my diet, and I’m perfectly fine; I’ll give her special cow candy that is good for her, obviously. I’d want to take Peaches out some because she can’t stay in my dorm forever. I’d like to take her to a cow park, but “cow park” could just be another name for burger restaurant, and that might traumatize her.