The cows on the dog-walking circuit have an attitude problem this summer; crapping is only permitted on paths, stiles must be blocked by at least six cows at all times and anyone with a border collie must be stalked by at least one cow to ensure a Benny Hill-style pursuit.

Dog and I parted company with Daisy in the nick of time, by diving into a footpath that is supposedly inaccessible to the cows. Not today. It was chock a block with heifers. They were turned out in the field a couple of days ago. They were delirious with happiness, just like teenagers let out of school for the summer holiday. But they eventually wearied of galloping around and started to hang out by the fence, presumably complaining about being bored and wondering where all the boys were hanging out.

Then a little boy came along, with his large mother and an even larger labrador. The heifers were agog with excitement. They jostled and goggled at the little boy who was hitting their fence with a stick whilst yelling 'Stupid Cows! Stinky Cows! I'm going to kill you if you don't go away" whilst his mother looked on indifferently and the labrador sauntered off with a shrug that said "They're not with me!"

Don't know whether the little boy made it safely home - there was no Little- Boy-shaped bulge in any of the heifers' stomachs - but the broken fence post and trampled barbed wire suggested they'd had a bit of fun before milling once again in boredom in the lane.

'Come along, Dog!" I said encouragingly. "They're more afraid of you than you are of them!"

"Yeah, right!" said Dog, squeezing through the hedge and setting off home the short way.

'Um - shoo - please!" I said to the heifers.

And Daisy, leaning over the gate with a piece of grass dangling from her mouth, gave what sounded like a suspiciously evil chuckle.