God's in His heaven and all's well with the world

Angelle is a cow-whisperer.  Intending only to take a picture of the cow, who was staring into our car windows like a kid peeking in the windows of a candy shop, she managed to get closer to the now-calm little holstein.  Telling him that he is the cutest year-old cow to ever walk the muddy barnyard (which may or may not be true) and offering a loving head-scratch, she earned an affectionate cow-hug and attempted kiss from the cow who licked her repeatedly.  

I slipped over to the barn to get some twine, fashioned a make-shift halter, and slipped it over the head of the cow, telling him in deceptively affectionate tones that he is a little black-sheepish brat who deserves nothing less than a swat on the hind end.  He followed me compliantly until we reached the haystack.  There was a bit of a non-compliance issue, but we made it to the gate which Angelle had opened, and the cow entered with some gentle encouragement and a well-aimed thwack with my loop of twine.  

He immediately walked over to the shade under the tree where the sheep lay despondently, bent his head down to the sheep for some quiet words of confession and apology.  He stood silently for long moments with his friend, bending his head down beside hers every so often.  

The rooster crowed his enthusiastic approval, but the barnyard was otherwise at peace again - the goats and llamas basking in the sunshine with satisfied looks that said that God's in his heaven, the cow's in the pen, and all's well with the world.  Except my dry pants, which are rimmed in spring soup from our latest trip to the barnyard gate.