The Story Of Bess, The Rescued Cow

Once upon a time, there was a cow who lived in the Kodachrome Basin. She lived a happy life, munching on dry sagebrush and drinking muddy water. She was a young-ish cow, but she was a very healthy size. On her best day, she tipped the scale at over 1500 pounds. Also, the cow had recently given birth to a bouncing baby calf who was the apple of her eye.

There were certainly some perils involved when residing in the riverbottoms of the Basin. One such problem was the quicksand in the Spring. After the runoff, the river would be full and raging. As the weather warmed up and the water evaporated, a thick, deadly quicksand was left in its wake. One day, the cow was wandering along the riverbottom, chatting with hero her cow girlfriends about the bull with cute rump. Deep in conversation, the cow wandered right into a spot of quicksand. She struggled and thrashed around, but her efforts only seemed to make the situation worse. The cow girlfriends continued on their way, paying little attention to the desperate situation that the cow was in. Even her baby, sprung from her loins, didn’t stop to help her. They just went on their merry way, oblivious to her plight.

Soon, the situation went from bad to dire. The cow found herself up to her shoulder in thick, pasty mud. There was no way out. She began to panic. A few minutes later, some people stopped to see if they could help. They tried throwing sticks and even a few rocks under her feet, in hopes that it might provide something solid for the cow to walk on. But the situation was far beyond that point. The sticks only served as further irritation to the poor cow.

Soon, the situation began to draw a crowd. People were pulling off on the side of the road to see if they could help her. One heroic group decided that the only way to help the cow was to use a tow rope and a wench to see if they could tow the cow to safety. It was a very risky plan. Because the mud was so thick, there was a very great danger that her legs could be broken in the effort to pull her out. But it had to be done, there were no other options. And so the long process began. And the cow just got angrier and angrier. People were pulling and tugging at her, touching her inappropriately. And some people were even trying to calm her, pet her on the nose as if she were a common farm cow. She did the best she could to defend herself, throwing her head this way and that. But the humans just kept at it.

This process went on for hours, every moment tense and emotional because of the great risk to the cow. No one was very hopeful that the situation would turn out well. It was widely thought that in the end, the cow would have to be euthanized, which is a nice way of saying that she would have to be shot in the head.

But then, progress began to be made. The humans were able to successfully pull the cow from the quicksand, but that was only half of the battle. She was very weak from her struggle and could not stand up. Additionally, she had to be pulled away from the quicksand because everyone was afraid that she would wander back into the mud. At the lowest point of the day, the cow lay on the ground, out of the mud, but so exhausted that she could hardly breathe.
Patiently, the humans kept at their struggle, hoping and hoping that by some miracle, the cow would revive and would be able to walk away. With every inch of progress hopes soared. Eventually, the cow was able to lift her head and soon was able to stand up.

And then, the greatest miracle of all, she went pee-pee on the ground, which was a welcome sign that she was going to make it.
The second challenge was to coax the cow, who was now dubbed Bess, to gather the strength to walk up an embankment to safety. For an hour, everyone watched as she struggled, making progress but then falling to the ground.

At this point, after three hours of struggle, reinforcements arrived. Two officers from the Division of Wildlife Resources had come to offer assistance. Additionally, a truck pulled up carrying five or six real-life cowboys (who reminded the author of Jim Craig, from The Man From Snowy River). On their authority, the group decided to tow Bess up the embankment, tying her back legs together. After a long and emotional struggle, Bess finally made it to the top of the embankment and was safe from the demon mud.
You could imagine that she would thank the humans for their effort. Instead, though, she was hopping mad. So mad, in fact, that she promptly headbutted the nearest object, which happened to be a truck. She took a few moments to collect her thoughts and her strength and finally wandered off into the sunset. Without a word of thanks. But the humans didn’t mind. They were happy to have saved her life. They hoped that she lived a full and happy life, until the day came, inevitably, that she would get shipped off in a big truck to go to Heaven. The End.

April 20th.

Today is April 21st. Yesterday was the ten year anniversary of Columbine. I don’t say “the tragedy at Columbine”, I don’t say “the massacre at Columbine”, I don’t say “the incident at Columbine”. I don’t like any of those words. So I just say “Columbine” because everyone knows what I mean without the use of such emotional descriptives.

I didn’t attend Columbine. I didn’t know any of the kids who were involved or even any kids who attended Columbine. That being said, I don’t think that this means that I didn’t experience Columbine. I think we all did, to some extent or another. Maybe we experienced it because we lived in the community. Maybe we experienced it because those kids were our neighbors and our friends. Maybe we experienced it because we shopped at the same grocery store that they did. Maybe we experienced it because we were living the mirror image of their lives, only just on the other side of Santa Fe Boulevard. That isn’t to say that my experience was anything close to what it was like for the kids who attended Columbine High School that day. To say such a thing would diminish the horror that they experienced. But I can say that today, ten years later, I find my life changed for having lived through that awful day.

My parents were out of the country, but not without a lot of trepidation over whether or not they could leave us alone for a week while they traveled so far away. They had never left us alone for more than a weekend, and certainly not to travel outside of the country. I happened to be home from school that afternoon. I don’t recall, but I probably was supposed to be in class and took advantage of the freedom. I would happily delete the voicemail message that the automated attendance line would inevitably leave on our answering machine that night…”Your student has missed one or more classes today, Tuesday, April 20. Please contact us at your earliest convenience.” As I flipped on the television, I knew something was wrong. None of the regular programming was on. Every channel carried flustered news anchored, trying to report scattered headlines as we watched students and teachers hanging from the windows of the high school. A few minutes melted into an hour, completely unnoticed as I watched the drama unfold. I remember feeling the need to be near people, needing not to be alone. I tried to go back to school, but we were in lockdown, no one was allowed in or out of the building. My sister was in there, separated from me. My little brother was locked down in his own school, unable to get to us, either. That was probably one of the hardest parts of that long and terrible afternoon. I needed to be with them, to have them right next to me and to know that they were there.

By later in the afternoon, officials confirmed that the standoff was over. Finally, the schools were allowed to adjourn and we all gathered back at home. We watched silently as we waited for the television to offer updates and report back on the grim news. Our answering machine was full that afternoon, though the attendance line never did get around to reporting that I had missed class that day. It was full of messages from family and friends, frantic to know that we were okay, that we didn’t attend Columbine. Most of the national news sources were simply reporting “a high school in Littleton, Colorado…”

I remember feeling a strong need to be with our friends, our neighbors, our community. In many ways, we felt very helpless and very alone, even though the three of us were together again. An impromptu gathering came together at a local Catholic church. It was a strange gathering. No one really had much to say, it was just a very shocked and silent group of people who came together because it seemed like the only way to get through this thing.

Late that night, our parents were finally able to get through on the phone lines to return our frantic and repeated messages at the hotel. They hadn’t heard the news yet. Odd that after all the events of that day, it is that conversation that I get emotional thinking about. I remember breaking down at that point, needing them there with us. They got on a plane the next morning and came home to us, slowly absorbing the shock and the horror of what had happened, right in our back yard. All three of us picked them up from the airport, still reticent to leave each others’ side.

For some reason, it always surprises me that April the 20th dawns with a lot of sadness and pain. Even ten years later, it’s a hard day. I find myself reliving and replaying each moment, the feelings still as bright and vivid as they were on that day and the days to follow. It’s a little bit shocking to realize how an event like that, even when experienced as an observer, can profoundly change your life.

Things That Must Go.

My favorite morning show on the radio does this bit occasionally, and I find it completely inspiring. Cleansing. Relieving. I've been collecting these for months, it's high-time that I set them free to cyber-land where they can irritate others as well.

Things That Must Go...Categorized For Your Convenience:

Matters of Grammar and Punctuation:

• The improper and superfluous use of quotation marks. One egregious example: “Our swimsuits are clean and ‘sanitized’”. It would appear that the swimsuits are not actually sanitized, but faux-sanitized. Look it up, people.
• The excessive use of exclamation points!!!!!

Items Related To Vehicles:

• Calvin peeing on anything. Enough already. Calvin is peed out.
• Bumper stickers with cute/stupid/smartass remarks. It’s only funny the first time, friends. Every time thereafter, it’s played out.
• Pairs of testicles hanging from various parts of your truck. Absolutely not.
• While this relates to item 2, it really bears it’s very own bullet…the bumper sticker that says “Show Me Your Hooters.” I really don’t think any more needs to be said.

Miscellaneous Irritants:

• The expression “Git ‘Er Done.”
• Medication ads in my email. When have I ever indicated that I had a problem with the size or quality of any piece of my anatomy?
• Individuals who sniffle during quiet times, such as an exam. A nose in need needs Puffs indeed. And a fragile mind also needs Puffs indeed, before she nails you in the eyeball with a pencil.
• The smell of random food around the office. I’m sure it’s all delicious, but for some reason, I just cannot stomach the smell of other people’s food. And yet, I commit these sin on a regular basis. See, I even annoy myself on occasion.
• People who borrow pens and either do not return them or press too hard on the ink tip, causing the fine point to be mashed and completely ruining my writing experience.
• FriChik.
• Animals that lack fur and have the ability to leap unexpectedly, for instance frogs and grasshoppers.
• People who refuse to see that the grocery store aisle operates under the same principle as the freeway. Slow traffic to the right, please. We’re not all interested in examining the contents of the spaghetti sauce.

Dear readers, I feel cleansed. Though I do note that my blogs have become a tad negative. Perhaps next week I'll blog about Things That Must Stay. Stay tuned.