Just what we need... another escape artist.

Our cow is still struggling with mastitis. Or I am. Both, I guess. I'm pretty certain we've now had to dump more milk than we've gotten to use since we bought her. It's no fun milking twice a day and pouring it all on the ground, day after day. And then to going to the store and buy dairy products.

Not Cool.

So the vet came out to get a culture and treat her with an IV antibiotic, since lesser methods didn't get it done. She fought like a good 'un. For some reason, she didn't appreciate getting jabbed in the neck.

And then she managed to sneak past both of us and squeeze out through the open stall gate.

This led to a Keystone Cops chase, as Meadow frolicked in the tall weeds, the neighbor's manicured lawn, and the ditch by the road, while being chased by me, my somewhat elderly vet, my five-year-old son, and the vet's wife in her white slacks and pink blouse.

We opened up several gates because we weren't sure which way we could get her to go. So when we finally did get her back in through one gate, she ran straight through, past the vet's wife, and back out a different open gate.

So jump back two paragraphs to see what happened next.

Eventually, we got her in. But she still needed to be milked. Of course she wouldn't go anywhere near the barn for quite a while, so I was nearly milking by candlelight by the time I coaxed her in.

The poor vet left covered in sweat, blood, and dirt, being hounded by his wife because he was supposed to have drank something two hours before in preparation for a colonoscopy early the next morning.

So I guess difficulties are all relative.

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