Okay, technically it was nose-to-snout but I’m calling it.
I can’t say it for certain, but I have to imagine this is exactly what I looked the first time I came face-to-face with a farm animal some three plus decades ago.
If you’d met me five years ago, you’d know me as a pig-lover of another kind. Suffice to say the existence of dark-chocolate-covered-bacon more than excited me. But after learning pigs have the intelligence of a three year old (human), I had to stop eating them.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying three year olds are particularly smart or anything, just that I wouldn’t eat one.
So when I had a chance to
eat meet piggies recently during my visit to Purina Farms with a few other lucky bloggers, I couldn’t resist.
And the cow? The pre-teens visiting with grandparents didn’t stand a chance. That nanosecond of hesitation – when a volunteer was called for – was I needed to seal my fate as guest milker. I’ve never been accused of being shy.
Lucky for me, grandpa had some sage advice I approached the massive mammary glands. “Be sure to warm up those hands!”
Yup, that’s what he said alright. #youcantmakethisshitup.