Falling Fence

When we first moved in here twenty years ago, there were horses in the pasture next door and our fields were full of cows.

The house had been empty for some years but a boy from down the street was raising his heifers here, using the dairy barn.

On the wall of a stall in the barn was written, "I love Amber."

Amber was his prize-winning cow. He used to take her for a walk up and down the street on a leash. She had beautiful, deep golden eyes and a coat the color of these russet fall leaves.

When my sister-in-law from an upscale Connecticut suburb saw them walking one day, she couldn't get over it. She had a fluffy white standard poodle, with all the pompoms and fancy trimming. After she saw Amber, she was dying to get a cow.

"I mean really," she said. "Who needs a dog? Get a real pet!"