Cow

I have a Cow! They are my best friend. Yes, I said ‘they’. Cow is a non-binary soft toy who comforts me when I need them. When I’m in the depths of despair, like standing on the top of a twenty-story building, a building that’s ten feet from an adjacent building, contemplating whether or not to jump, not knowing  if I’d make it! I could stumble on a small crevasse at the precipice of the roof I’m leaping from, not reaching the jump to its fullest potential and plummet to my death. On the other hand, I could make the jump, landing on the soft artificial grass of the rooftop terrace of a lovely Armenian couple who then invite me in for dinner. Or, I could reach for Cow, their black and white exterior, comforts me! A message coming from the depths of the quotation marks on their soft, white, felt nose, telling me to get off the roof and try to enjoy life. But that’s where the problem lies…I don’t!

Cow was a birthday present given to me by my mother…well, I was given a photo because they were too bulky to bring to my granny’s, the place where I spent my thirty eighth birthday. The second I came home, I made sure I got possession of them…and I haven’t let go since!

I was admitted to hospital three days after our return from what my aunt calls ‘the benny hill show’, a place where questions fly, six to a minute, all the same words, always the same answer. In hospital, I fell asleep every night with my head on Cow, embarking on a journey that broke me out of the ‘insane asylum’!

One night, they took me to the mothership, a place that was crammed with every variety of animal you could think of, each with sewn on black eyes and exclamation marks on their noses. We shared war stories. Cow told me about the drinking game they played, where the first one to move, took a shot. Needless to say, none of them won, or lost for that matter, as they are stuffed animals with no limbs. I guess a blob would fit their description, but what a wonderful blob they are! I, on the other hand, ended up paralytic from the copious amount of alcohol I consumed. I began to tell them of the time I escaped from the special care unit in the ‘nut house’.

Special care is a locked ward, within another locked ward. There are only twelve beds, three in the bay and three rooms for each gender. Even though there is one nurse to every three patients, I, somehow, snatched a doctors key when she wasn’t looking, and nonchalantly let myself into the next ward, the lesser of the two evils. As I elegantly walked towards the exit, one of the nurses looked at me with a furrowed brow, trying to recall whether I had graduated to the outer ward. Of course, I hadn’t. I walked with my bum in, my tits out, and just as I opened the door the alarm bells began to wail. I ran. The exit of the hospital, whilst next to the ward from which I came, going through admissions as a shortcut, seemed miles away when there were people of all professions in the hospital running after me. I exited the premises, the gate in sight. I ran like the wind. I was going so fast that I felt as if I were flying, almost making it to the gate…almost.

It took two security guards and three nurses to tackle me to the ground, concrete pebbles cutting my arms and legs as they struggled in doing so. I kept trying to inch my way closer and closer to the gate, dragging those trying to prevent me from leaving with me. But the wailing alarms were everywhere, and more nurses pinned me down until I could move no more! I felt a sharp scratch in my upper left arm, making the world both distorted and as though it were spinning. I was carried back to my bed where I was stripped of a room and put in the observation bay. The next thing I can remember, is the TCP stinging my scratches so they wouldn’t get infected. The nurse said, ‘my god, for a big woman you can move!’

Cow loved this story! They are a bit of a rebel themselves…I mean, who identifies as a non-binary stuffed animal? As the dream vanished, but not without putting ideas in my head, I took my medication and began my day. I was in the outer locked ward at the time, and each and every instance I looked out of the bedroom door, I could see the exit! Cow made me promise I would bring them the next time I endeavoured to make a break for it, just so they could see my strength. They looked at me and deduced from the story, no, memory, I shared, ‘you are one bad ass!’ Cow proceeded to beg me to put all of the strength I portrayed in the memory into my recovery! They pointed out, ‘if you could plan an escape at the drop of a hat like that, then imagine if you put half of the energy you possessed that day into something, anything, that might make you happy!’

I pondered the last statement Cow had communicated, and straight away went down the Lego minifigure route. I knew I had a lot of them at home, some worth big money. Each week, on payday of course, I purchased a bundle of minifigures, making sure they arrived at my home address. By the time I graduated to home life, not because I was ready, but because my insurance days were up, I took Cow into my bedroom where the minifigures were piled up, still in their envelopes, on my desk. We opened them together, counting them to be in the hundreds. We looked through them all and put a lot of work, and energy, into cataloguing them before putting any up for sale.

Every day, at around three, we made our way downstairs and sat on the light brown laminate flooring of the sitting room, my back to the dark brown leather recliner. Cow sat comfortably on my lap. We sorted through any orders I received, readvertising those that were still available. I’d made a good bit of money from them…and still have about three hundred, standing in an amphitheatre, that I made especially for display purposes, all out of Lego of course.

Last night, just as we were hobbling up the stairs, me holding Cow by the tail, they asked me again…’are you enjoying life?’. I looked at the most comforting thing in the world to me, and whispered, ‘I’m trying to!’.

After following my night time ablutions, I took to the bed, laying on my left side as always. As Cow rested comfortably under my head, I rubbed their soft exterior with my right hand, one of their ears firmly grasped by my left, and realised the impact Cow has made on my life. They were always there for me in the hospital. They encouraged me to pick a past-time that was both enjoyable and lucrative. I realised that without them, life would be hell as they were helping me enjoy it! They act, not only as a transitional object, but as a friend, and sense of security. I get excited when people ask me if they can purchase minifigures, an emotion I wouldn’t have previously been able to achieve.

I have a Cow! They are my best friend. Without them, I would be lost! Together, we can aim to achieve greatness! Together, we are a ‘bad ass’ team!