Saved by the cow

The pasture where Sparksie milked her cows was across a small inlet between our house and hers.  At morning low tide, it was our job as children to take our 3 cows across the inlet to the pasture for grazing and return them to our place at evenin' tide.  We would often get distracted by a game of tag or hide and seek as we rounded them up and the water would begin to rise before we started back across.  One such summer evening, we had played longer than usual and the tide was fully in when we started back.  Although below my knees on the way over, the water could rise up to my 4 year old neck when high tide was in.  Although there had been numerous attempts to teach me, I still was unable to swim well enough to keep my head above water.  My mother had buckled a man's belt around my waist and held me as I thrashed around kicking my arms and legs despite her gentle directions and demonstrations.  On this day, as the sun settled into the marshy fields, I stood at the edge of the water, watching my brother, sister and the cows, swimming and walking to the other side.  As the fear that I could be stranded in this field overnight descended upon me, I began to whimper and cry.  One of the  cows turned and looked at me.  Before I knew it, she was back at my side, kneeling in the mucky, muddy edge of the water at just the right height for me to scramble onto her back.  I held on for dear life as she easily carried me across to the homeside of the inlet where my mother met us and pulled me off.
I have had a special affection for cows ever since.  In Buddhism, cows are the symbol of docility and devotion.