Udderly Useless? Maybe Not.
/The Boston Globe
It's the silliest, most superfluous thing: a big, stuffed, standing-up, udders-hanging, tan-and-white toy cow that does nothing. It doesn't moo. It doesn't give milk. It doesn't even twitch its tail.
Who needs a thing like this?
The cow lived for a long time in a hospital gift shop and was a stand-out among all the other. smaller stuffed things: fluffy bears and perky dogs and colorful fish puppets, plus, in the last month, an array of ghosts and witches and black cats.
But it was the cow that stole the show with her big, take-me-home-and-love-me brown eyes and her realistic, almost chicken-like wattle. A bright orange bow around her neck and she'd fit right into Halloween. A sprig of red behind her ear and she'd be dressed for Christmas. A thing of beauty she was, as anyone who was rationalizing a reason to buy her could see, a creature not just for today but for all occasions.
I told myself, and my daughters, that Cow would be perfect for the grandbabies, that they would love her, that Adam, at 1, and Lucy, at 2, would be as enchanted as I was by this life-like thing. So what if Cow didn't moo? I could moo. So what if Cow didn't have wheels on her hooves and her back wasn't sturdy enough to support even a toddler for a real ride? Everything doesn't have to do something, does it? Can't some things just be?
I could see us at Crescent Ridge Farm in Sharon watching the real cows grazing in the field, and this not-so-real cow watching, too. "See those cows! See THIS cow? What does a cow say?”
And all of us would moo.
It would be a hands-on, learning experience.
”They don't need a cow," their mothers chimed. "They have enough stuffed animals.”
A sensible person would have heeded the words of her daughters and marched, eyes straight ahead, past the gift shop from then on, the cow, in the parlance of the good Sisters of St. Joseph, an "occasion of sin" to be avoided at all costs. But I was hooked and like most sinners, continued to invite temptation daily.
Of course I said every day, day after day, all the things a person who is contemplating buying something she doesn't need repeats. This is a waste of money. We can live without a cow. This is excess. The cow is not necessary.
And then one afternoon I walked into the gift shop and what do you know? The cow was marked down. And just like that she wasn't excess or a waste of money at all. The cow was a bargain.
She worked her magic immediately. You walk through a hospital with a big creature with udders and a wattle, and people, even seriously sick people, perk up.
"Wow. That's quite a cow.”
"What do you have there?”
"That cow is the cutest thing ever!”
And what happens when you drive with a cow strapped in the front seat?
You get smiles from drivers. Waves from little kids. Even a few nods from truckers.
The babies, as predicted, took to Cow instantly. In just two weeks, they've kissed the white on her nose gray.
No, Cow doesn't moo. But we moo for her. And she doesn't walk. But she comes for walks with us, perched in the middle of a big double stroller. She sits between Adam and Lucy on the stone wall in front of the high school. She takes up a whole chair when we stop outdoors for ice cream.
People walking by say, "Nice cow.”
Silly and superfluous? Of course. But some of the best things in life are. Fireworks and jokes and pumpkins on the lawn. Even baseball and parades and movies are all unnecessary. But where would we be without these things?
We don't need them.
But, then again, maybe we do.
