"Good-bye, Billy," I whispered. Billy then rested his head on my shoulder, as we wouldn't be seeing each other for a very long time, maybe not ever again. After he lifted his head from my shoulder, and I lifted my head from his, I turned around toward the back door.
"I have to go with you, then," he said. I turned around. Billy was standing in the doorway. Ugh, why didn't he just go away.
"I'm sorry,but no. This is my adventure, not yours. I'm leaving because I don't fit in, but you do. You are black, white, and have some sass. I don't want to pull you away from your perfect world," I replied. Sometimes Billy could be caring, but most times he needs to leave cows to go their own way. I saw another tear roll down his face. I couldn't stay here any longer before Doc woke all the cows up, so I continued walking out the door.
As I stepped outside, I felt the cool, moist air settle on my nose. The grass was wet, and a little too long. I guess the herd had been eating somewhere else when I took my visits to Johnny and Tommy.
"Oh. That's right. I need to say good-bye to them before I leave," I thought.
As I walked over to the east side fence, the grass was really thick.
"Maybe I can eat a little grass on the way to the fence," I told myself, "Just to store a little fat for the long trip ahead of me."
By the time I reached Tommy and Johnny, my belly was full and my hooves were completely wet from the dew on the grass. I wasn't used to them being wet because Doc always let us out a little bit later in the morning than this.
Ok, I have to admit, by the time I reached Johnny and Tommy, they reeked so bad, I couldn't stand next to them without tearing up.
"I'm sorry I'm leaving you guys, you were the only ones I could talk to for a long time. But now I have to go. By the way Tommy, you were my favorite, although I can't tell which one of you smells the worst right now," I choked as a tear rolled down my cheek, not from sadness, but because of the horrid smell filling my nostrils. Of course, they didn't respond, and just lay there in two 500 pound heaps.
I turned to face the gate, and pushed with all my might. It slowly opened with every small, heaving step I took. In the distance I could make out the barn, the horse stables, the chicken coop, and one other figure. Then I realized it was Billy. He had finally let me go.
:::::::::::::::::::
Then a real tear rolled down my cheek, not from the smell, but for the fact that I realized that my brother was always there for me. Always there when I fell. Always there when I needed someone to talk to. That was when I was younger, after Doc has sold our mother to a factory, and Billy had to comfort me. As I got older, I started separating myself more from Billy, although that was a mistake, but didn't realize it at the time. I needed him all my life, and he needed me, but of course I didn't know that. I was just a cow. A different cow. And always will be.