I remember back in the early 1970’s, as part of the opening ceremonies to the National Western Stock Show and Rodeo every January, promoters would drive a small herd of cattle down 17th Street in downtown Denver. For those who don’t know, 17th Street is the heart of the business district in Denver. At least, that’s where all the banks are. Eventually this was done away with as it was felt this projected the wrong image, at least according to those seeking to “elevate” Colorado to Blue State status. They didn’t want to be living in no gall dang (spit) cow town. No sir. Git along little dowgies. Git.
Well, they’re back. After my morning cups of joe at The Market, I walked amongst the herd of properly sanitized and stylized she bovine. Let’s start here…
Yes, ladies and gentleman. Doesn’t she look stellar? Graced with green leggings and city scraps, this little lady is dressed to carry you off to sleep and into your worst nightmares. But move over missie, for daylight, she’s a comin’.
I hate it when the omen for the kind of day I’m going to have is a pink streaked cow. Looks like is going to be one of those pepto-bismol days.
This one is wearing a much loved sweater I had as a kid. So that’s where it went. Hey, my parents told me it ran away!
In need of a few antibiotics, it seems. Maybe something in a convenient hose on dosage. (I didn’t touch this one.)
Nothing to see here. Moooove along now. (Just a little freaky.)
Well, we know which are the recessive and which are the dominant genes. Time to close the book on that particular experiment.
That’s just not right. There ought to be federal legislation against putting cows in grass skirts.
Ouch. Occasionally known as the Denver Donkeys (during bad seasons), the Denver Cows is about as docile as you can get. Even the Denver Pigs would be better. At least pigs know how to be mean on occasion.
There you have it. Denver. Cow Town Redux.
Edited for clarity.
Added link to The Market.