This was right before Kari and Travis were married. Calling for back-up was something she would have to learn to do over the next several years while Travis was in med school and residency.
“What! Was she out on one of those farm-to-market roads? How on earth did the cow get to Dakota? Is Kari okay? How badly hurt is Dakota? Oh good grief, this is terrible. Where are they now?” I asked, just as the pone rang. It was Kari.
“Where are you? Are you all right? How’s Dakota?” I suddenly realized I wasn’t giving her time to answer. “I’m fine. Dakota is in with the vet right now,” she sighed.
“Kari what on earth were you doing so far out in the country? How did the cow get to Dakota? Did Dakota run under the fence in to the pasture? Can dogs get mad cow disease from a cow bite,” I kept on with my rapid-fire questions.
“What are you talking about,” she asked confused
“I’m talking about the cow. The cow that attacked Dakota. Jim said a cow attacked Datoka?”
“The cow? I said Chow, not cow. Dakota and I were jogging in the neighborhood and one of the neighbor’s Chows ran out and went after Dakota. I think the Chow thought we were invading his territory,” she said laughing.
I was so relieved to know there weren’t hostile cows living outside Springfield, Missouri. This was when cell phones were relatively new and the reception was sometimes sketchy at best.
But isn’t that what we tend to do when we don’t know all the facts, go into a semi-panic. I’ve learned over the years to slow down and ask a lot of questions in what looks like to be a crisis. Nine times out of ten it’s not. It keeps my blood pressure normal and I don’t get weak knees from an adrenalin rush to spring into action when it’s not necessary. Honestly, what action would I have taken in a cow attack situation anyway?
“Not only do I not know what’s going on, I wouldn’t know what to do about it if I did.”