My first horse was raised in Los Angeles. When I purchased him in 1971, he was well acquainted with asphalt, eighteen-wheelers, and freeway on-ramps (we really don't need to go down that road any further, no pun intended), so when I took him with me to college, it was a new experience for both of us. I had never gone for a run in clean air (I grew up thinking your lungs were supposed to hurt when you exercised; much like your legs got sore, etc.), seen tractors on public streets, gone to an ACTUAL drive-in movie (my room-mate and I were poor enough that we used to go sit outside and just watch without having any sound), and watched fruit GROWING on trees (I though they just appeared magically in the produce aisle at Ralph's).
And Sherman (my horse, whose real name was Jedidiah Isosceles Extravaganza , Jr., shortened to Sherman for everyday) had never seen a cow. So the first time I took him riding, we came upon a pasture with a, guess what, COW in it. Sherman stopped short, stared hard, and was prepared to walk on and accept this vision as an extremely odd looking horse, when the cow MOOED. Sherman freaked, and took off at his fastest pace in the opposite direction.
(He also had a unique attitude towards the first river he saw. Horses are usually very suspicious of bodies of water -the common theory at least at that time was that they could not see beneath the surface. Sherman, however, got to the edge of the river, sniffed at the water, and promptly THREW himself into the river, with me and saddle being dragged behind, and would swim at any opportunity offered)
So today our greyhound saw her first cow - and I guess the cow saw her first greyhound. My husband described it as mutual astonishment, and then some sort of inter-species dance, comprised of wild capers, leaps and bounds and ended with both of them running off in opposite directions.
I think any future dating is out of the question.
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