I had to be even a minor when a summer Sunday, dressed in my finery, I approached my friend Oscar's house with the intention to begin the round of morning vermouth. I stumble over his mother, who grabs me by the arm imploring. "Juliana is in labor, come help me I'm alone." We were few and would bear the grandmother (the cow, in this case).
Needless to say, many cows spend their own behalf in Rebollar de Ebro, rebellious village of several dozen people and in those times, a hundred dairy cattle. A neighbor had a cow named Caroline and when the first grandchild was born this Carolina also called it. If cows Tenino not name, were treated for "brown" or "blond" because of his fur. That also explained the familiarity with which some of my friends cowboys chasing female cattle during our nightly raids in the clubs of nearby towns (Reinosa or Aguilar de Campo) and so it took more than a slap instead of a coz.
Anyway, I'm lost. Les said that there was a cow Juliana, lying in his stall with considerable pain, cow hooves poking her daughter into this world, feces everywhere and I, immaculate dress sailor petrified. The mother of my friend applied alligator soap at the edges of the dilated vagina of the cow, tied a rope to the calf's hooves, I gave the other end and told me when I say strip.
"And so daylight saw a creature, I ended up telling my audience. "They have these flight hours?"
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