Cow dead in the street.

Cow dead in the street. In India the cows wander, they are worshipped as divine beings. The country recognizes the value of their milk, their dung, and their presence. Here we do not see the cows, they are not allowed to be on our roads with its traffic whizzing by and everyone in a hurry. In India the cars, busses, trucks, people, dogs, monkeys, and cows all roam the streets together. Sound chaotic? Well it’s not; it works beautifully. Everything is slower; there is time for everyone and everything.

A cow escaped from the slaughterhouse in West Baltimore today. It made its way to Preston Street. She was just about to the corner of Charles and Preston. Cassie and I were having tea and talking about practice when we heard two bangs. We knew immediately they were gunshots. We stood, two more shots and people were beginning to scatter. Then I saw it fall, the cow. I have seen the bulls run in Spain. The shape of a cow is definite. I knew it. It writhed and then it died.

Would we do that to a human who was lost? Should I even think about it in that way? I felt sad. I recognized the cow was now in a better place, and then I felt angry. I wondered why nobody had thought to try and help this beautiful beast? I couldn’t take a photo or a video. I could barely breathe.

Cassie reminded me his journey was epic, triumphant and definitely a better way to go. I didn’t realize there was a slaughterhouse in West Baltimore.

I prayed for this cow, but each day, how many die without prayers?

Beautiful cow you are a hero, you journeyed out on your own. Into the unknown and along the way you reminded countless people of your existence, of your value. I am sorry you were shot.

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