Dead Cows

Well .... here we are STILL on the couch.  The healing process is slow.  While we were doing really good yesterday, this morning we are back at step one.  I've become exceedingly good at the new game of Hide The Pill.  The first one of the day gets crushed up in his all time favorite treat, which lucky for me, is very soft.  I can crumble it up quite nicely and hide the dreaded flavor bean.  He never feels good in the morning, so that's the first thing he gets.

While I work on the blog, he sleeps at my feet, giving the pill time to work.  Of course all that is after searching for the ball under every table and chair.  

 Jonathan is feeling left out.  Every night now he sits and talks for 30 minutes or so.  Sadly I can't get a video of any length to pass through my email account, but you get the picture.  The crazy part is that every time he says something, I talk back.  

So ... in the meantime ... we come to Dead Cows.  Life on the ranch was hard.  Rarely did we ever get a day off.  Cattle had to be checked every day.  Of course that was the part I liked the best ... riding out on my favorite horse to slowly wander through the fields looking for sick or hurt cows and calves.  

It was always a shock when you found one dead.  Cows were expensive.  To lose one cost you a pretty penny not only in replacement costs, but in the loss of calves she could produce over the years.

I rode up slowly.  In case you didn't know, horses don't like dead things.  They snort, spook and want to run away.  They can smell them a mile away, so if you pay close attention to your horse, you'll know when you find one.

Yup ... there she is .... dead as a doornail.  You learn how to read the signs.  In spite of the flies, she is not twitching.  Plus, within a few hours, they are bloated with legs sticking out straight.  It's not a pretty sight.  I rode back to the house to tell Dad.  We drove back in the Jeep ... a WWII red beauty full of bullet holes.  I've no idea where that Jeep came from.

At any rate, with a cow dying for seemingly no reason, the vet is called for an autopsy.  I had watch duty until he arrived.  You see dead things smell ... and smelly dead things bring scavengers like coyotes and buzzards.  You don't want any of those things messing up the "crime scene".  

The Vet showed up and the first thing he did without warning, was stick the belly and let all that putrid gas out.  OH MY GREAT AUNT LOUISE!!!  There is one more important thing you learn on a ranch ... to breathe through your mouth and NOT your nose where all the smell will make you toss your cookies in a fraction of a second.  That lesson has served me well all my life.  

Then it was on to cutting up all that stink.  Are you feeling it yet?  The Vet took out all the parts and pieces one at a time and explained to me what he was looking for.  Yeah, it was pretty gory, and is probably why that kind of thing doesn't bother me.  In the end it was determined she died from old age.  Cattle generally live 15-20 years unless they are raised for food.  

Obviously there was no putting her back together, so the Gut Wagon was called to haul her away.  The good news ... there was no bad disease causing us to kill the entire herd.  Life could be hard on the ranch.

So as I sat on the couch, thinking about dead cows, I came across these amazing cupcakes.  That's another thing about ranch living ... you don't let something like a dead cow interfere with your love of cupcakes.

One of these days soon, I'll give it a try while Cooper is sleeping.  For now though, we will be back on the couch for Day 3 of teeth removal.  I still feel so bad ... my doggy needs doggy dentures.