It’s high noon in Santa Clarita when I bury my face into the side of a cow, who is lying on the ground. His fur is rich brown, the color of fertile soil, and it’s silkier than I expected. I nuzzle my cheek against the animal and breathe deep. He smells sweet, like fresh hay, and musky. When I open my arms wide and grip the cow in an embrace, he shifts slightly, then eases into the weight of my body. He’s holding me as much as I’m holding him.
This is cow hugging therapy, one of several animal-assisted therapies offered by the Gentle Barn, an animal sanctuary with locations in Southern California, Tennessee, and Missouri.
I realize this sounds like a joke. ( It was udderly ridiculous how many punny text messages my friends sent about this.) But I arrived at cow hugging from a sincere place—it might seem like a strange place to arrive for therapy, but after spending the past few years in a wrestling match with my own wellbeing, I was willing to try anything.
It started when I awoke in the middle of the night, my skin clammy and slick with cold…
