Finding peace with cuddles from a cow

Hey there, time traveller!
This article was published 26/05/2018 (2976 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.

What with being a crusading middle-aged newspaper columnist the size of a major kitchen appliance, I am always keen to track down the latest wellness trend.

I am willing to try anything that has the potential to improve my mindfulness, promote a sense of well-being, heal my fractured soul and get me in touch with my innermost feelings, provided it isn’t too difficult.

Which is why I am keenly interested in trying my hand at the newest wellness craze — cow cuddling.

Yes, I am talking about a form of therapy wherein you, the farm-animal enthusiast, for a small fee, are offered a chance to fling your sweaty arms around a hefty heifer.

Some of you probably think I am kidding around in a light-hearted manner about cow cuddling, but I promise you, I am not the sort of columnist who makes fun of a barnyard creature that, if tipped over, could flatten you like a (bad word) pancake.

I stumbled on a herd of breathless news reports about cow cuddling this week while patrolling the internet, and I am pretty sure the internet does not make stuff like this up.

It seems cow cuddling, wherein a cute cow offers you comfort in a non-judgmental environment, is even hotter than goat yoga, wherein you do your downward dog exercises accompanied by animals that, if given half a chance, will eat your stretchy Lululemon workout pants.

According to online news reports, Mountain Horse Farm in upstate New York is offering something called the “Horse & Cow Experience,” a kind of therapy session that offers customers “relaxation, healing and awareness about (their) body language” via cuddling cows.

Mountain Horse Farm claims that cows make genuinely great cuddle buddies thanks to their intuitive and sensitive nature.

“Cows have a body temperature that is slightly higher than humans, and their heart rate is lower than ours. Cuddling up with a cow, feeling that lower heart rate, and higher body temperature, is very relaxing,” according to their website.

“In order to survive in the wild, they had to become masters at reading body language. And when you enter their space, they will read you subtly but with intent, just like they would read any other herd member. They will pick up on what’s going on inside and sense if you are happy, sad, feel lost, anxious or are excited and they will respond to that without judgment, ego or agenda.”

So, if I am reading this correctly, the farm is saying cows are experts at reading your moooooood.

OK, I apologize for that last joke, but, honestly, I couldn’t help myself.

Still, now that I think about it for several valuable seconds, I am all in favour of reducing the stress of modern existence via the technique of holding tightly on to a 770-kilogram creature with huge liquid-brown eyes and four stomachs.

I may just be a city boy, but I have had at least one positive social interaction with a cow, an occasion I still enjoy bragging about a decade later.

I am referring here to the 43rd annual Manitoba Stampede & Exhibition in Morris, wherein I was crowned (prepare to be extremely jealous) champion at the rodeo’s inaugural Media Milking Contest.

It is safe to say that I would not have had a chance of winning this prestigious competition were it not for the support of my teammate, Diana, a four-year-old Holstein from Saskatchewan, with whom I formed an unbreakable bond, despite the fact she was the first cow I had ever personally laid hands on.

On that thrilling day, I began my quest for victory by seeking advice from an expert source — the bartender in the VIP lounge.

“Ooooh, let me tell you,” Curtis Evenson beamed as he handed me a cold beer.

“You can’t just squeeze; you’ve gotta get a rhythm — kinda squeeze and let go, squeeze and let go.”

Armed with the rhythm method, I grabbed Diana’s dangly bits with both hands and began tugging with all my might in an effort to get more milk in the bucket than my rivals.

They gave me the trophy, despite the fact I apparently cheated, because the rules state you are only supposed to milk with one hand.

Who knew?

The point I am trying to make is that I have fond memories of Diana, and my impression is that cows are extremely large creatures that possess a deep understanding of the human soul and offer mankind a true path to peace and understanding.

OK, I may be milking that slightly, but I don’t see any harm in stressed-out people relaxing a bit by cuddling with a cow.

It makes a lot more sense than cow tipping, which is a thing wherein drunken frat boys sneak into a farmer’s field, locate a sleeping cow, then attempt to tip it over, even though it would be easier to tip over a convenience store.

If you’re curious, Mountain Horse Farm charges US$300 for a 90-minute session in which you and a pal can brush, pet and cuddle cows to your heart’s content, all in the presence of a licensed counsellor.

Given the anguish and terror and idiocy we read about every day in the newspaper and witness on television, spending 90 minutes cuddling a therapeutic cow seems to make a lot of sense.

So, tell your psychologist or hypnotherapist to take a hike, because you’ve decided to take the plunge and cross the road… because, like many uptight humans, you’ve found salvation on the udder side.

doug.speirs@freepress.mb.ca