They are.
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just show em a BBQ, pot of gravy and a Yorkshire pud, and theyâll get the gist of your intentions
OK, I think weâre just differing over a word then. I used afraid, you used wary. The real problem seems to be that many people (most ?) donât know how to behave with cattle. Faced with a âfight or flightâ choice they can do the wrong thing. It seems that in the grand scheme of things the risk isnât huge http://theconversation.com/when-cows-attack-how-dangerous-are-cattle-and-how-can-you-stay-safe-around-them-79524 - 54 documented attacks on walkers over 20 years, a quarter of them fatal. Two thirds of attacks involved dogs (mind, around here two thirds of all the walkers I meet seem to be with dogs).
VB
You should also factor in people in cars who call 999 when they see cows in fields when itâs raining, complaining about animal cruelty 
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Crux of the issue. That and people being bloody cluelessâŚ
Depends on breed and individual temperament. But especially if you have a dog with you.
Cows being cowardly⌠well I neverâŚwhodathunk 
Apart from the rouge ones which are best avoided.
Is the cow going Nooooooo?
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Yep, reminds me of the complaint about the starving horse with no food being so hungry it was forced to eat grass.
BTW moos are lovely things and, being brought up in the country, I miss them like mad.
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Saffron met these two again yesterday, sheâs not sure what type of breed of dog they are but she likes them.
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Stop listening to that shit and play tug with me.
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Your dog looks like that aging uncle who just wonât give-up on his 1980s hair-rock bubble perm⌠
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Brian âRubyâ May.
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The Severn burst its banks and made our usual 7 mile walk a bit longer and a bit more. Adventurous.
emphasized text
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This morningâs shit-shakedown walk to the nearby âwoodsâ involved Max and Tara spotting a particularly fuckwitted rabbit. Not an unusual occurrence, but this was a rare one that I hadnât spotted first (for reasons that will become plain, when you own lurchers, you are ever-watchful for Small Furries), and it was at 90-degrees to me. Those of you who know the ways of lurchers will know they are very, very fast, and very, very determined dogs which are basically life-support-systems for a bottomless prey-drive; they can launch from a coma to 40mph about as fast as a bullet leaves a gun.
This morningâs sighting resulted in such a launch, as it always does. Normally I have already spotted Monsieur Bun, and can anticipate and control. Not today. Tara went left, Max went right and I went strainght into the substantial poplar tree the two dogs were avoiding, with roughly the force of a back-road RTA.
The impact all but knocked me out, winded me, and resulted in Max tearing from my grasp, catching up to the fleeing rabbit in a fraction of a second and hurtling towards the road with squealing prey in his jaws and vanishing from sightâŚ
Somehow I held on to Tara by pure luck. I picked myself and legged-it - hopelessly-ineffectually - after Max. By further extraordinary luck Max decided to stop at the T-junction of the most dangerous road a quarter of a mile away and consume his impromptu lunch - starting with the munchy-crunchy head. He was down to the shoulders by the time I found the bastardâŚ
The fact the cunt is still alive is pretty much a double fluke, since if a car hadnât got him I was planning on his demise⌠Relief got the better of me⌠Fucking lurchers 
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