The Anniversary
Kit Kat
For our anniversary I decided to plan an entire day of fun. We would spend from dusk to dawn at my favorite historic farm...Wheeler Historic Farm! Bill was a dear and pretended not to know where we were going as I had him sit blindfolded in the backseat of the car. I drove us a little out of the way to throw him off, but he must have known where we were going. He was wearing his “play” jeans.
Bill
I think that Kit Kat may have drugged me. I woke up in the backseat of a car, blindfolded and began weeping. After a few minutes of silence, Kit began laughing harder than anyone has ever laughed. After we both calmed down a little bit I took my blindfold off. She hadn’t tied me up, she isn’t crazy. She told me we were going to a play farm and I was so glad I’d worn my Play brand jeans to bed last night. We pulled into the farm and both went immediately to where we always go first- the milking station.
Kit Kat
The lift tickets were for Brighton so we knew we were in good hands. We signed up for some introductory classes to get our feet wet. Well, hopefully not wet. Dry. Dry in boots. Dry, but cramped and rigid in boots. Our teacher was a barrel chested older gentleman named Phoelix. He was brusque and charmless, but yet I still immediately fell bromantically in love with him.
Bill
I think that Kit Kat may have drugged me. I woke up in the backseat of a car, blindfolded and began weeping. After a few minutes of silence, Kit began laughing harder than anyone has ever laughed. After we both calmed down a little bit I took my blindfold off. She hadn’t tied me up, she isn’t crazy. She told me we were going to a play farm and I was so glad I’d worn my Play brand jeans to bed last night. We pulled into the farm and both went immediately to where we always go first- the milking station.
Kit Kat
I bought us both 5 milking tokens, which they don’t love...but I paid good money and wanted to have more turns with the cows! All of the Wheeler staff knows Bill and I, and are often surprised at how natural we both are at milkin. I dream of owning my own cow one day so that I can milk her any time I like, but for now, the milking station will have to do. It’s like practice...and practice makes milk.
Bill
The real surprise on this day, was that Kit Kat’s anniversary gift was waiting for us at the farm. I knew she’d always dreamed of owning a milkmaker; she often talks in her sleep to someone named Besse. When we got our stools out to begin milking I told her to pick her favorite cow and get to milking. She picked a stunning young lady named Marjory and it was perfect. I put my hand on her rump (Marjory’s) and told Kit Kat she could have her! All hers! Her very own! She was shocked.
Kit Kat
MARJORY JONES!!!! My darling angel princess fur bucket of love!!! I couldn’t believe my ears, my eyes or my heart. Bill had given me the greatest gift he ever could. He drove the car home and rode Marjy for about a half mile, then walked next to her for the other 45. I guess cows don’t love to be ridden, which is TOTALLY fine. My sweet treasure cow is not a laborer and I am not her cowgirl. I am her friend and milker. She was going to make an incredible addition to our daily routine.
Bill
Four days later, Marjory and Kit Kat showed up back home. I hadn’t been lazy though, I’d built a paddock in the backyard for Marjy. I heard them both coming up the road because they’d worked out a rather complex moo-based language that they were both pretty fluent at already. That time on the road had been a real bonding time. When I showed Kit Kat the paddock. She was so grateful, but... I could tell something was wrong. Marjory, she said, would need to be a house cow. She’d said so.
Kit Kat
Thank you, whoever invented the California King! We could have fit four more friends in that bed! It took alittle getting used to, but I think Bill ended up really liking having two gals on either side of him. Marjory was a very heavy sleeper, so much so that Bill’s left arm was crushed one night and we had to get him into a cold tub to get the circulation back. However new and close the transition might have seemed, the indoor sleeping arrangement certainly paid off. My milky milk Marj was giving us up to 13 gallons of fresh pours a day!
Bill
We’d considered homogenization at first, but Marj was just producing such sweet, luscious milk it seemed likea waste- so we drank it as is. Frankly, I loved it. I’d take my bowl of Crispix and just hold it under and udder and give a quick tug and was off to the races. Same with coffee, but that required a bit more caution. Marjory certainly does not appreciated a toasted udder. We’d lost a little moving space around the home, but what we’d gained... well, we’d gained a friend. A friend, and a confidante. And a pet. A milkable pet.