When I walk down to get our mail,
Zeke assumes he has a job to do as well.
When he hits the end of our driveway,
he takes off running.
Because his job, as he sees it, is to make sure all the cattle across the street
stay far away from the fence.
Because, you know, that's important.
Here's what he's thinking:
Who do you bovines think you are, hoovering around by this fence!
Now get away from here this instant!
And so they do.
In no time at all, Zeke herds them all far away from the fence line.
And as he is making his way back to our side of the road,
the cattle quickly make their way back also.
Don't even look at me.
I get no respect, I tell you!
And that's what happens each and EVERY time I walk down to get the mail.