Being told to strip down and having my sagging udders slapped around by strangers. Having them measured. Being talked about as if I weren’t there- people pointing out that my udders hit my belly button. Being made to get on all fours and be reminded that I’m meant to be a cow in service to my human owners. That my Hucow body isn’t mine, nor is my milk. Being idly sucked on in front of guests. Have my udders referred to as milk bags. Tied so that they stick straight out. Tube pumped so they get longer. Called a breeder. Used like a breeding cow.