The Highland Cow

 

Many years ago, my sister in-law and I traveled to Scotland. Although we were different as night and day, we got along fine as we traversed the length and width of this lovely country.

She was a collector and could have been an interior decorator. I was not a decorator and the decor in my house could best be described as “plain.” Our tastes were very different, and this showed up when shopping, especially in gift shops, so when we left one especially nice store, our shopping bags held very different items

I had purchased a small stuffed bear. Her shopping bag held an 18”x6”stuffed Highland cow, a monstrosity with matted red hair, a long tail and beady eyes. I hated the thing from the get-go. She loved it and carried it everywhere. The real Highland cows weren’t built for beauty but for survival in the harsh climate of the Highlands and this stuffed animal was an accurate depiction.

My sister-in-law lugged the thing all around, and upon departure, as we boarded our individual flights for home, I glimpsed her standing in the TSA line, carrying the Highland cow in a large carry-on bag.

This year, some twenty years later, my sister-in-law passed, leaving a house full of beautiful things plus the not-so-beautiful Highland cow. When talking with my niece who was distributing her mother’s earthly possessions, I asked about the Highland Cow. Yes, she told me, she had found it. I explained how attached her mother had been to it and how I hated the thing. We had a good laugh.

Several weeks later, a large package was delivered to my house. When I opened it, staring up at me from a nest of packing material was the Highland cow, my niece and daughter had thought it amusing to send it to me.

I wasn’t sure what to do. I would feel guilty if I dumped it in the trash, but I couldn’t stand looking at it, so I dropped it in my laundry hamper, but what to do next? Even my new dog growled at it. An idea occurred. Maybe my feisty toddler granddaughter would like it,

This story has a happy ending. The Highland cow is now living with my granddaughter and her parents. I showed it to them as they visited. My son loved it. His wife enthusiastically welcomed it and little granddaughter isn’t the least bit frightened of it.

I was prepared to remind them not to forget it, but they snapped it up as they went out the door.