Cowlet

—Chicago boasts of a citizen of fine discrimination and delicacy, who, riding in the suburbs with his best girl, passed a stable in the door of which stood a couple of calves. “See,” said the young lady, “those two cute little cowlets.” “Those are not cowlets, Araminta; they are bullets.”

A lurid lumination lights lithe Laura’s eyes, / (O, tender cowlet, kick the bucket o’er)— / A look of anger and of pained surprise, / A look that ne’er had lit those orbs before.

Separate all cowlets from the cows, as they drink all the milk. Cowlets should be earning their own living.

After a short while a thin small cow was released from the gangway leading to the menagerie. Provided with a scarlet cape, Juanito strutted forward towards the scampering cowlet. […] So in vest and black clown’s pantaloons, he provoked the cowlet and played the heavy matador. With all the grand airs of a Bombita Chica or a Montes he advanced to the assault. The dutiful cowlet gave a low. The little cow almost laughed to see such sport.

Book Agent. Oh, so you are interested in farming? Isn’t that a coincidence? The Everyday Encyclopedia Of Useful Facts included a five-hundred-and-seventy-three-page volume on farm and country life. / Mr. Jordan. (Interested) It does! / Book Agent. It certainly does. I think I have some sample leaflets here. (Opens a briefcase and takes out a pamphlet with some colored pages in it) See! Here is a picture showing a group of contented little cowlets browsing by a babbling brook. / Mr. Jordan. (Puzzled) Cow'''lets? / Book Agent. Yes, little cows. Aren’t they dears? / Mr. Jordan. I thought you said they were cows. / Book Agent. (Laughs) Now, aren’t you the clever one, though?

“I am not sure a compilation of odds and ends should be called a ‘book.’ Perhaps ‘booklet’ would be the better designation. My daughter, when quite young, once spoke of a heifer calf she saw grazing on the rim of the road as a ‘cowlet.’ In reality, the wayside animal was a ‘bullet.’ Though this book, or booklet, isn’t even calf-bound, the analogy should have been close enough to make me wary of jumping to a conclusion. However, it is too late now.

YES — imagine, if you can, that all human beings are cows and or bulls for just one day (I just can’t stand the thoughts of being a cow for more than one day). SO — lets^([sic]) take the cow and bull side of the question first. REMEMBER — you are a cow or bull. Mrs. Cow has been home all day busy getting the cotton seed meal and hulls ready for dinner, tending to the little cowlets and bullets and baking a bale of hay.

What’s a meta for anyway, I say, if not to mix with chicken lips, cow intestines and pig ganglia, foisted on poor defenseless cowlets held captive in feed lots for a significant portion of their tiny, meaningless lives, destined for the compressed air gun, the hook, and the heavy hammer, and the human Bar-B-Q bun, rotisserie and intestinal villi.