I’m entirely convinced that at this point in my life, almost everyone who knows me, knows that I have a cow named Ethel. And a large majority of those people know she’s my best friend and that I’m mildly obsessed with her. And out of that large majority, I’m pretty sure that most of them think I’m insane for the fact that my best friend can’t speak English, let alone do anything but moo and give me glares begging for more hay, and that she could literally kill me if she wanted to.

However, I’d like to take this opportunity to let you know that 1) it’s Ethel’s (and her twin Emma) 11^th birthday today. It’s a big deal, so please feel free to celebrate. And 2) I might seem crazy, but there are reasons why I love the big and sometimes bratty beast who goes by “Ethel.”

First things first. I remember first seeing Ethel and Emma in the calf hutches in late December of 2003 when they were only a few weeks old. My dad knew I wanted to start showing dairy cows in 4-H, so he picked out these two for my cousin and I to show because they looked pretty nice as calves. I honestly thought, “Why these? They don’t look that special to me.” Well, I would shake my head at young Elizabeth at that point because I underestimated the impact those two animals would have on my life. And I’m not just saying that in the way that an inspirational quote makes you think differently in one area of your life. I mean my whole life is what it is because of that very moment of meeting those calves for the first time.

So very vaguely do I recall every moment that Ethel and I have spent together, especially during my younger years, but some of my favorite moments were experiencing clipping for the first time when I wondered how any human being would be willing to go through that horrible experience (plot twist, I love it now!), practicing walking with her on a halter when she got stung by a bee and ran away so I bawled and told my father I would never show her again and that I hate her (another plot twist, I don’t hate her), and experiencing the grandmotherhood for the first time with her first baby, Emily, on 12/31/05. I also remember taking her to the county fair wanting so badly to win a showmanship class, and then when I did, I went on to State Fair and won showmanship there too. That was one of the most proud moments I’ve ever had. It wasn’t just me, it was her too. We were a team. And one of the most vivid memories I shared with Ethel was when she had to get a C-section, and we sent her to the vet’s farm to get the procedure done during my spring exams. I said goodbye to her on the trailer and thought I’d never see her again. It still brings tears to my eyes thinking of that moment when I was scared, and Ethel knew I was terrified too. Her eyes looking at me as we closed the trailer is an image I’ll never forget.

(And then there was that one time I brought Ethel to school with me for a senior prank. NDP will never be the same.)

Now these memories weren’t typical bonding experiences. A lot of what I’ve experienced with Ethel has been hard, but there’s nothing I’d trade for any of it. Through our ups and downs, Ethel has taught me determination and how to keep going even after a bee stings and makes both of you upset. She’s taught me what it really means to be “hangry” (angry because you’re hungry). She’s shown me what being a best friend is like by being excited to see me, by letting me sleep on her, by her resting her head on me, and by her having an unconditional love with her sister. She’s shown me that the people who feed you typically become your favorites (that’s you, Dad). She taught me to love 4-H and the people it gives you in your life. She’s given me a great conversation starter for every situation I’m in (which could be why people talk to me at all because she’s famous). She’s taught me how to take care of myself and how to take care of her and others. She’s taught me to love the dairy industry where I have found passion and incredible people. She has let me sing in front of her, which I don’t think anyone else would ever do. She has proved to me that there is a thing as “too many pictures” because she runs away from my camera after being in the limelight her whole life. She’s given joy to people while wearing Ravens gear, a Santa hat, and more. She’s taught people about real farming. And she may or may not be more popular than me, but unfortunately she hasn’t given me any tips on how to become more popular. Maybe one day.

In all seriousness, she’s given me what I’ve become today. There’s nothing in this world that I love more than the girl I named after a goofy character in I Love Lucy. I am forever grateful for her showing me what I love in life and what I want to do. I am even more thankful for her friendship whenever I needed it and for her young spirit that keep things interesting at home.

I can’t help but cry when I realize what a difference she’s made in my life. I’m not a crier, but Ethel is the real deal, everyone. That’s why I talk about her every chance I get, that’s why I call her my best friend, and that’s ultimately why I am who I am.

So next time I talk about Ethel, hopefully you understand why I’m doing so. But in life, I hope you find something that makes you so excited that it makes you cry. I hope you find something or someone that teaches you about love, yourself, your passions, and life. And I hope you appreciate it or her/him every chance you get because nothing is forever. I hope you find your Ethel because that’s the best thing I could’ve ever found, and I’m glad to call her an old geyser today at 11 years old.

Happy birthday, Ethel. Love you forever and always, even until after the cows come home.