Small stature, big heart

Maybe I've mentioned this before ... well, yes, I know I have. But I was the tiniest boy in my class, all the way through grade school. In class photos, I was the one standing in the bottom row -- far left or right -- who held the sign: "Miss Leghorn, P.S. 67, Grade 3, 2009-10." Excessively crew cut, face all askew, as I squinted into the rare Northwest sun.

It would be overly dramatic to say that being a dwarf child cast a pall over my entire life. No, I suspect there were other factors as well: My alumni magazine this month, for example, features a lead article discussing how physical attractiveness (or lack thereof) affects virtually every aspect of one's personal and vocational life. Frankly, I'm amazed I even ended up an alumnus. If it weren't for my generous annual $15 donations to the alumni fund, they probably would scratch me off their mailing list.

But I digress. Being elevation-challenged myself has always led me to empathize with the little people. In the hope -- curiously in vain, as it turns out -- that the little people would occasionally return the favor. And so, my heart leapt with joy and excitement when I read today's news article about a Yorkshire cow named Swallow.

Now, cows aren't generally my favorite animals. "Bovine" doesn't connote -- to my mind, at least -- sharp repartee and a quick wit. But Swallow, as cows go, is remarkable, if for one reason only. She is only 33 inches long, nose to tail. That's little. If she lived in my back yard, god forbid, she could easily wander into the house through my cat door and curl up on the couch. (Cows do curl up, I've seen them, but usually way out thar in the meadow.)

Swallow seems to have swallowed her diminutive size with equanimity. It never caused her to despair of success in life. Or in matters of the heart. In fact, her romantic liasons have already resulted in nine bright-eyed youngsters, with a tenth in the oven, as it were. This does raise a question or two, if not an eyebrow. I've seen lots of, to be delicate, boy cows. They're pretty tall, huge and husky. Think "linebacker." But let's avoid idle, salacious curiosity. In her eleven years of active life, Swallow's somehow managed to experience nine blessed events, and all her youngsters have grown up to be normal sized cows, with normal cow-like intelligence.

I've seen photos of tiny Ozark women with broods of huge, cow-faced teenage sons, so I suppose we shouldn't be surprised. Anyway, she's a happy mama, living a fulfilled life, and I rejoice for her. She reportedly spends her time, when not giving birth, out socializing in the fields, chewing the cud with her cow friends -- and, um, "listening to BBC radio in her cowshed." Seriously. I quote verbatim from the Associated Press.

God bless her, I say. An inspiration to us all. Be proud. Stand tall, albeit small.