Really Just An Excuse to Post Photos of Mr Moo

Ah Mr Moo, we've come a long way together.  From the early days when you were a defiant young steer inspiring revolutionaries everywhere with your refusal to cross the road right up until today when beaten but unbroken you see out your days grazing with your fellows who gaze upon you with the sort of reverential awe I only give to hamburgers.

Mr Moo with some more expendable cows

Oops, sorry didn't mean to mention the "h" word.  Yes, reluctantly we both must concede that there is a road trip to the abattoir somewhere in your future but let us hope that day is a long time coming.  As long as you keep eating twice your body weight in grass there is hope.  I must confess I always assumed that my colleague's father in law raised beef cattle for the purposes of selling them as, well, beef.  I didn't realise he kept the cows largely because he likes a well trimmed lawn.

But this could be your salvation Mr M.  Of course its pretty hard cheese on the grass but screw it, grass doesn't have an activist group noisily protesting on its behalf.  Heavily tattooed hipsters don't turn up their nose at grass and treat those who eat it as psychotic murderers one step worse than Hitler.  In short, grass doesn't have any sort of advocacy body so its feelings can be safely ignored.  Eat that green stuff Mr Moo, eat it until it comes out your ears.  Perhaps you can persuade your owner that a nicely trimmed herbaceous border is utterly dependent on your continued survival.  You don't have time for sympathy or fellow feeling, if any of the other cows show signs of serious grass eating you should nudge them towards the front when the truck comes for that "special trip".

The other thing you have to do is kiss up to my colleagues daughters.  Pander to them nauseatingly.  If there is something that might save your life it is the tears in his granddaughter's eyes when the time comes for the farmer to pack you off to the slice and dice.  If you play it right you might get one of them to throw her arms around your neck in tears at the thought of this happening.  If either of them do this its important that you don't throw them off and trample them into the mud.  That would probably undo all the good work you've done so far.  I'm going to be speaking to my colleague about "Save Mr Moo" t-shirts and we'll get something trending on twitter so, you know, we're doing all we can.

I'm posting photos of you on my blog so that all my readers (about a dozen at last count none of whom have any influence with your owner) can see what a fine cow you are and how much you deserve saving.  Again, I can't emphasise the "not trampling small children into the mud" bit hard enough.  I know kids can be annoying but these girls have gone through a lot what with having a mother who thinks she's a fox and living in Tasmania and all.  Any slack you cut them now could add years to your life expectancy.  Anyway that's all for now Mr Moo, I wish you many more years of eating grass and, er, well whatever it is that cows do.  Whatever it is, I'm sure you're brilliant at it.