Back home, we love our buffaloes in their comical interludes between their chewing and shivering their leather of flies. Their tails are flying up and down their backs covered by egrets on private agenda.
We take no chances with their milk these days, our society’s morals being low. We cannot not trust our buffaloes with tap water. We therefore have them be milked right before us so that milk flows in our gleaming stainless steel vessels undiluted.