The Gang of Cows

         I don't think you can fully appreciate the intuitive nature of animals until you've experienced it yourself.
         I know I didn't. I spent years with the cows, and never really thought of them as anything but milk machines. Maybe it's because I spend such little quality time with each one. They walk into the milking parlor; I wash their teats, slap on a milking machine, and move on to the next cow. And then I repeat, 200 times. There really isn't time to develop a relationship.
         That all changed the day after I crashed my pickup truck. Thank God for seatbelts and airbags, but my Ford wasn't so lucky. It was hauled away, beaten and bruised, to be sold for parts and scrap metal. I didn't have the money to replace it until my insurance came through, and that was going to be weeks.
         I rode my bike to work the next day. It was tiring, but it was my only means of transportation. And after nine hours of milking and barn chores, I wasn't looking forward to pedaling home. I planted myself on a hay bale, and hung my head. I needed to rest before I went home.
         The cows should have been cud chewing by then, but today, they just stood there. I didn't pay any attention to them until I looked up, and noticed they were all staring at me. The oldest cow, Bessie, ambled up to me and gently laid her leathery head on my shoulder.
         Was that sympathy? Could she tell I was sad? I patted Bessie on the head, appreciative of the pity, even if I was imagining it.
         "Don't worry about me girl," I said. "I'm okay. I just need to find some money for a new truck."
         She looked at me for a few seconds and then walked away. I decided it was time to hop back on the bicycle and go home.
         The next day, I was not only just as tired when I got to work, but my legs hurt too. I limped into the milking parlor, and began to set up the milking machine. As I walked to the cabinet to get the cleanser, I saw $56 on the ground. I picked up the bills and put them in my pocket.
         I was only on my tenth cow or so when my boss came into the parlor.
         "The weirdest thing happened yesterday," he told me. "I was in this barn for only about five minutes yesterday, and I must have dropped my wallet over by the feed hopper. I found it this morning, but all the money was missing."
         He laughed. "I kept wondering if the stupid cows have learned how to pick pockets."
         "Was it $56?" I asked, reaching into the pocket of my overalls. "I found it on the floor by the supply cabinet."
         "Well, slap my face and call my Sally," he muttered, as he snatched the money from my outstretched hand. "How did it get over there? Hmm."
         As he walked away, I could see the cows following him with their eyes, looking up from their silage and staring as he walked past.
         As I arrived at work on a wobbly pair of legs the next days, a police car was in the driveway of the main house. I hopped off my bike, and one of the officers came over to pepper me with questions.
         "What time did you go home yesterday? Did you see anything unusual before you left?"
         The officer explained that the local branch of the Third National Bank was robbed last night. It was kids, he said. They only took about $20,000 and they were clumsy.
         "Like a bull in a china shop," he told me.
         When I opened up the supply cabinet, I was shocked to see a huge bag of money sitting on the shelf. And the cows, which normally wait patiently behind the parlor gate, had opened the latch and were surrounding me. Bessie walked over to the bag of money, picked it up in her mouth, and dropped it on the floor in front of me.
         I was flabbergasted. "Did ... did you guys, I mean, really, did you guys get this money for me?"
         Bessie just stood there, motionless.
         "Seriously, did you guys rob a bank for me?"
         There was no movement. Finally, the cows turned around and went back into the barn. They stood in front of the gate, waiting patiently, and I could have sworn I saw Bessie smile.