Moo-ve over, Funny Cide and Empire Maker. Both of you may have won races in this year’s Triple Crown, but the next animals on the tracks could have names like Clarabelle, Nellie and Bossy. According to the Associated Press, "Pete Ondrus and his wife Barb Lambert told the Greenville, Mich., Daily News that they were looking forward to a summer of ballparks and fairs in which they would stage races between their favorite cow, Dusty Roads, and two other trained race cows." We should have seen it coming. After watching races between horses, dogs, goats, fleas, turtles, we should have realized cows were the only species we hadn’t seen on the tracks. Until now, cows could only make names for themselves by starring in cow bingo competitions, an almost unimaginable Midwestern activity that revolves around penned-up cows leaving their droppings on a numbered grid. (I don’t know what kind of spectator could be hooked on cow bingo, but it might very well be a person whose favorite songs include "I Don’t Know Whether to Kill Myself or Go Bowling" and "Mama Get the Hammer — There’s a Fly on Papa’s Head." The Pittsburgh Post-Gazette has listed those as real song titles.) If cow racing surpasses horse racing in popularity, the changes should be quite obvious. It won’t be long before the races of the Triple Crown (the Belmont, the Preakness and the Kentucky Derby) will be renamed The Belmilk, The Dairy Queen-ness and The Wisconsin Derby. Thoroughbreds and quarter horses will be replaced by Holstein, Guernsey and Jersey cows. Instead of strolling around the racetracks, sipping mint juleps, racing fans will slurp more appropriate beverages, such as milkshakes and malted milks. Cow racing would be much safer than horse racing for at least two reasons. First of all, cows aren’t built for speed, which can be dangerous. They were originally designed to meander slowly in pastures from one good clump of grass to another. Secondly, because cows tend to be shorter than horses, being thrown to the ground would mean less broken bones and other injuries for jockeys. Buying a ticket to a cow race would mean getting more for your money. While a horse race can be over in the blink of an eye, a race for contented cows could possibly last for hours or entire days. When you’re contented, what’s the rush? Cow owners and trainers will be less anxious and have less expectations than their horse counterparts. Most cow investors will be satisfied to see their cows stop chewing their cuds and run any distance at all. Racing cows wouldn’t require elaborate retirement plans, such as those accorded to racing horses. Retired horse champions often bask away their final days in green pastures with willing mares and bring in huge stud fees. Cow champions past their prime will, more often than not, land up covered with a special sauce between two halves of a sesame seed bun. In conclusion, it’s almost a certainty that loyal, enthusiastic cow racing fans won’t appreciate another song with a terrible title, "I Wanna Whip Your Cow."
