The Cow Couch

When you asked me if I wanted to sit on a cow, I naturally thought of one that trots around in the pasture, eats grass and lies down in between to chew the cud. So, I said if the cow is okay with it and I didn’t feel like bothering her, then I’d like to try it. You showed yourself convinced that the cow didn’t mind, because she was used to it and hadn’t resisted it until now. I only became suspicious when you led me into your house instead of behind it to a pasture. What should a cow be doing in the house? Is not a house arranged to meet human needs utterly unfit for a cow? I wanted to ask that, but I didn’t get around to it because you led me straight into the living room.
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