A cow once pulled my hand into a fence by a blade of grass.

I knew an emergency medicine doctor who owned a bit of land in west, central Florida. The area was strange tucked between suburb, farm and crack house. He had three sons, who seemed young at the time; but they've all turned forty.

There were animals on his property, except horses. And there was at least one cow. I underestimated how strong cow tongue was, still attached, so I fed this cow a blade of grass; not flat and creased, but cylindrical and kale green.

This was not the raging bull, type of cow. I remember a white coat, and the beast standing very close to the courtesy fence. But the stalk of the blade was taut--Pinellas county, not budging for tornados or hurricanes, taut.

So being a teenager, I thought, have tug-of-war with said cow's tongue until the grass blade broke, me standing safely on one side of the fence, the cow's on hers. That stalk was very taut. The cow would not let go, pulling grass and clenched hand into fence forcefully. The cow barely shifted its head. I received some immediate punctures to the back of my hand pending blood. I did not have to let go; the blade was gone.