The Strange Antics of Dr. Cow

By Baba Galleh Jallow

Dr. Nakbi Cow alias Wula Ninsi, managing director of Milchcow Enterprises, was a very interesting fellow; perhaps the most interesting fellow in our little town; certainly one of the most interesting in cowland! Not only was he interesting, he was also highly eccentric and given to wild flights of fancy that almost made his eyes pop, his teeth clatter and his lips visibly shake as he angrily made one point or another. For it was generally known that while Dr. Cow literally wallowed on the creamy laps of vast opulence, his heart was always full of furious rancor that made him one of the most miserable cows in the world. Indeed, it was generally agreed that for about ninety-nine percent of his public presence, Dr. Cow was visibly furious about one thing or the other, and menacingly thrusting his sharp horns this way and that, not caring who got hurt or even killed by his threatening actions.

In spite of his perpetual state of fury or perhaps because of it, Dr. Cow was one of those folks who REALLY loved themselves, almost to an obsessive degree. He spent the first two to three hours of every morning in his private mirror room, proudly gazing at himself from all angles, turning this way and that, switching his tail and loving the sharp arc it made in the empty room and the sharp swishing noise it made in the air. He would place his horns on the sink and give a long-drawn nose gaze at his powerful image, then he would move a few steps back, a few steps forward, a few steps this way and a few steps that way and wiggle his muscular body in utter self-admiration. The fact that he and nobody else was the famous Dr. Cow greatly pleased him. He felt extremely unique and well endowed with all the best cowly qualities and that made him exceedingly proud of who he was. Above all, Dr. Cow felt really handsome and gallant; obviously the most handsome cow in the whole big wide world, although he wouldn’t say that in public.

One of Dr. Cow’s most famous eccentricities was that he totally hated being called cow in public. He even hated seeing the word cow written anywhere in the world. When he planned to visit somewhere, he would sent an advance team of special cow agents to check out, erase or otherwise remove any references to cow in that area. The agents would scour walls and peep into valleys and especially scrutinize all the newspapers of the day to see if anyone mentioned the word cow. If they did, all copies would be confiscated and burned and the editor of that paper would be immediately picked up and charged with trying to mock Dr. Cow. Vehicles that had the word cow written on them would be stopped and confiscated, and any actual cows spotted in that vicinity would be immediately captured and sent to the butcher’s shop. If the greatest cow in the world says he was not a cow, how dared anyone suggest otherwise? And on those unfortunate occasions when someone either intentionally or inadvertently mentioned cow loud enough that Dr. Cow heard them, the great cow would immediately summon a press conference and deliver a long and scathing tirade against the impudent culprits. With streams of hot fury gushing from his generous nostrils in powerful spurts, Dr. Cow would angrily grin and hotly stare at no particular object as he dressed down those jealous enemies of progress and characters of no particular abode who decided to incur his vengeful wrath.

“You open your big mouths and say I am a cow? Ha? If you think I care what you call me then you can go to hell! If a cow moos at me I will not moo back because I am not a cow. If I moo back I will be a loser. Do I look like a loser? Ha? Milchcow Enterprises is my personal property. When I risked my life to save Milchcow, most of you who are now opening your big mouths to call me cow were hiding under your beds! And now you think you can come out and call me cow! If you think you are brave or that I care about what anybody thinks, then come right here and face me and call me cow. Moo moo moo, you will then know who I am. I don’t care what any of your foreign masters think. I am not afraid of anybody in this world or even beyond! So keep calling me what you want but if I catch you, if I catch you, moo moo moo you will then know whether I am playing or not!”

Having thus delivered his customary threats, Dr. Cow would angrily bull doze his way and squeeze into his private cow limo. Back in his cow mansion and safely behind the locked doors of his private mirror room, Dr. Cow would proudly gallop to and fro and do several cow-ups with his hoofs firmly planted on the marble floor. The he would scratch his front hoofs on the floor and give an extended low moo to expel the tension that had built up inside of his chest. Then he would place his front hoofs on the sink and let the warm water wash them up as he launched into another of his log, self-glorifying monologues about the virtues of being such a unique cow.

“They think I care about being called a cow,” he would muse. “Yes, I am cow, and so what? I am a cow for development. I will develop and transform Milchcow Enterprises into a super power by the year of the cow. I am proud of being a cow and very proud of my cow culture and traditions. They preserve their so-called culture and traditions and want to impose them on me? They must be joking. Let them call me cow or even horse or whatever and see if I care a darn thing about their stupid words. I am a cow for development and I will be a cow for development for a thousand years if I so wish!”  

Dr. Cow especially liked affirming his cowliness in the presence of his favorite cronies and brown noses, the likes of Mr. Face, Brother Fake and Uncle Lips, who would frequently clap their hands in extreme glee and roll on the ground in forced laughter as Dr. Cow pounded his chest and peered this way and that, this way and that in utter amazement just how everyone else but him was so out of touch with cowly reality!

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