The cows seem to have an affinity for dairy products. At times like these, I really wish that I spoke Moo. Not only are they crowding the butter (yes, I only use real butter - that explains the large caboose, thank you), they seem to be fighting over it.
What do you suppose cows do with butter? I can't imagine they'd be eating it. Maybe it's some form of currency for them. Or maybe, because it's changed from it's original form, it's some sort of illicit drug. Whatever it is, the tension in my kitchen right now is palpable.
The kicker is that it's MY butter, and I'm not giving it up without a fight. I love my butter. And I'm about to march into the kitchen and pick up those two silly cows and put them in the cupboard. Separate cupboards. Bessie, Fred, don't do butter!
Until I write again ...