Parade of Cows

Everyday around 2:30 a pack of cows comes from the slum neighborhood near by and then passes by our bright green house. I hear the commotion from the dogs on the street below. I watch from the balcony. A cow stops to scratch his head on an electrical wire. Three dogs lead the way, being stirred from their special spots under cars and in comfy sand patches in the slums, they come announcing the arrival of these strange beasts, and like a bunch of adolescent girls seeing Taylor Hanson, the dogs go absolutely wild. The cows take their time, and the dogs can hardly handle the intensity. As the cows trudge forward, the dog's barks grow faint in the distance. A woman follows from behind barefoot, collecting all the cow dung, using her arms as a basket. It is the event of the day everyday at 2:30.