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I never thought I would be a country girl. I always lived in the city growing up, and prided myself on being able to say that I’ve never slept outside, peed behind a tree or had cows mowing my grass.

Until this year.

We all know about the epic camping trip that produced an adorable pair of heels for my closet.

Peeing behind a tree is pretty self explanatory.

But the whole cow thing? Yeah.

Ok, so I sent Brooks out Saturday night to feed and water his dog. Rufus has been having a problem with barking at night lately and John assumed it was because she is kinda blind and leaves are really giant bugs out to eat her. I figured it had something to do with the fact that she is just dumb.
Regardless…
Brooks was out watering her and came running back thru the house yelling “Dad! Dad! There is like an elk in the backyard. Seriously!”

Now, in my opinion (and that’s the only one that matters) John has 2 speeds : fishing hole slow and the cubs won the world series fast. He tore out of the house at “if you were a hot dog, would you eat yourself” speed! I’m still kinda shocked he didn’t trip over the 57 pairs of shoes that were by the back door.

After making it outside to see the giant elk, you can imagine my surprise when we rounded the corner and saw not one, but two giant bulls.
Complete with horns!

Rufus was beside herself, which explained the barking all night, and I was ecstatic because we finally had something to mow our yard for us! No telling how many nights they have been here. You would think that I would’ve noticed the numerous cow pies in the yard, but no. I’m way more concerned about making sure my kids are not picked up by DHS for being outside naked!

Brooks suggestion was that we get the gun and shoot them because they were big and on our property. (I’m starting to learn that most boys think that shooting will fix everything.) John quickly told him that we can’t shoot animals that obviously belong to someone else and that mommy would be really upset if she had to start mowing again.

I was the only one that wore shoes out there, so I was the designated Rufus getter and about peed my pants when one of the bulls stepped out of the shadows and started walking towards me. He actually could’ve been walking the other direction because I didn’t have my glasses on and therefore I was as blind as a bat. (are bats really blind? Cause I’ve never really thought about that saying until now) John was laughing at me, Brooks was begging for me not to get kicked because he knew that dad would be in charge of the cooking and we all don’t want that to happen, and I was hightailing it back to the house with a crazy dog in tow.

I’ve checked the last few night and haven’t seen the cows anymore. I’m sure we scared them way. Things come to our house to either break or die, so if you see some cows belly up over by our house, you know they came to the Tidwell’s for a visit.

No guarantees on your own safety and health if you come over for a visit.

And this is NOT grounds for you to bring all your unwanted pets and toasters over here to break and die.

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