As we sat in a turkey-induced stupor last night, visiting with family, I don't even remember how this story came up but it did, and it's one I've never heard before, so I have to get it typed before I forget. Disclaimer: this story is not filled with gentleness and might offend those who are faint-hearted.
Joel and his brother Ken were helping his dad move some cows in the canyon from one corral into the trailer. It was getting late, and both the cows and the cowboys were getting tired and grouchy. One particularly stubborn cow had to have a rope looped around her neck to persuade her into the trailer. The boys were dragging at the rope, and the cow was doing her best to resist them, pulling back on the rope as hard as she could, even though it was cutting off her air supply. All of a sudden, after choking and gasping for air, the cow collapsed, stopped breathing, and appeared to be dead.
Can you imagine trying to explain that one to your dad/boss? "Uh, Dad? Remember that cow that you told us to lasso and pull into the trailer? Well, we did, and now she's, uh, well . . . she's dead." Grandpa Sagers was understandably upset about losing one of his cows, but told the boys to hurry and slit her throat with their pocketknife so that they could at least save the meat.
Slitting the cow's throat loomed as quite an unpleasant task to Joel and Ken, and so they decided to take matters into their own hands. Instead of slitting her throat, they decided that chest compressions would do the trick to bring the cow back to life. The boys took turns climbing up onto the corral fence, then jumping down onto the prostrate cow's ribs. Quite miraculously and unbelievably, after 10 to 15 "chest compressions", the old cow suddenly gasped, coughed, and sat up. And she lived happily ever after. I think the boys were pretty happy that they didn't have to do mouth-to-mouth.
