Bella Story

"Her PH is literally not conducive to life."

"You’re going to need a Peter Pan Miracle to save this cow."

In the spring of 2012, Bella, a young jersey milk cow was out grazing with her best friend, “Steve”, a Hampshire pig. Steve was very mischievous and showed Bella how to break into the feed room. The duo knocked over and consumed approximately 30 pounds of cob and molasses.

Later that day, Bella looked a little green around the gills, and she was very thirsty but would not drink. I called Pattie, who taught me what I knew about milk cows and she told me to call a vet right away, and that this was an emergency. I got the number from her and called Dr. Mary Pride Clark.

Dr. Clark arrived around 10:30 p.m. and worked on Bella, (a pretty cooperative patient!), until almost 2 a.m. She administered fluids, baking soda to neutralize the PH, and charcoal to absorb the “junk”. She also put a tube down her orally to help release some of the gas buildup. All things considered, Bella looked pretty good for how long it had been. (Usually a cow with fatal bloat will die within a few hours). Dr. Clark left with the directions to keep Bella warm and to call her in the morning if nothing changed.

In the morning, Bella was standing exactly where I left her, wrapped in a sleeping bag with a glassy-eyed look. Dr. Clark came back out and tried some acupuncture and more IV fluids. She ran out of fluids and had to go to Placerville to get more, but told me in the meantime, there was not much else she could do, and that I need to consider U.C. Davis. Having been a horse owner all my life, I knew that UCD is usually $5000+, or a death sentence. Often both. MP assured me that they are much more reasonable with farm stock, so I made the call.

Meanwhile, we’ve got to get Bella into the trailer. She took one step and went down, so we had to take down the fence and back the trailer into her pasture. Once the trailer was ready, we had to figure out how to get her up into it. Bella was not a big cow, but even a little cow is 600+ pounds. We got a horse panel and secured a piece of plywood to it, then rolled Bella onto it and tied her so she wouldn’t slide. After a lot of head scratching, (and a few neighbors coming over to help), we finally leveraged up the “gurney” and placed the edge of it into the trailer, with a round post under it and ropes on the “gurney”. A couple of us in the trailer pulled on the ropes while mom backed the rig, and the whole makeshift stretcher rolled into the trailer! Brilliant! If only we’d come up with it sooner. Bella was severely dehydrated and in shock. Unconscious. Pretty much the picture of a dead cow. Dad would have bet anything she’d not make it to Davis. We stopped in Shingle Springs to meet Dr. Clark to administer more IV fluids for the trip to Davis. An hour later, we arrived.

When the techs opened the trailer, they said we brought them a dead cow. I informed them “she’s not dead yet, so please try.” There were two vets assigned to her, plus students. The first vet, (the “nice” one), said they’d do what they could. I told her I’d authorize anything they needed to do, “don’t worry about keeping me up to date, just do what you need to for her. I know that time is of the essence.” They went to work right away, taking blood, temp, and trying to stabilize her in order to get her out of the trailer. After awhile, (about 45 min) they got her out with a forklift and brought her to a straw stall. All the while, the other vet, who was the surgeon, (the “negative vet”), kept saying “I can’t do surgery on this cow. If I cut her open, she’ll die.” Shortly thereafter, the “nice” vet told me that they’d gotten a few test results back, and Bella’s PH was VERY acidic. All of her rumen microbes (good bacteria) were certainly dead, and she said, “to be honest, we’ve never seen an animal with such an acidic PH actually come out of it. Her PH is literally not conducive to life.”

Bella was unconscious and in her new “bed”, and the techs let me sit with her and hold her head in my lap. The first thing they tried was to put a tube down into her rumen (via oral) and relieve some of the gas, and possibly backwash some of the feed out. (At this point we had no idea of how much feed was in there). After a few hours, this proved unsuccessful.

Every now and again, Bella would open her glazed eyes and look up at me. She was too disoriented to even form a question, or to even realize that all was not well. Bella was on deaths door. But there was a brief flash of recognition, and I knew that my reassurance would be critical to even the smallest chance of her survival.

Back at home Bella had friends and supporters of every religion sending her positive energy, light, and prayers. But behind even the most optimistic intention, was a total cloud of doubt; everyone knew Bella was gone.

Upon bringing this “tough girl” a second box of Kleenex, the “nice” vet and the "negative" vet came to me and said it was time for a decision. The treatment was not working. Time was ticking. Bella’s temperature was steadily dropping; despite the heating blanket they put on her, she was at 94 degrees and dropping, and her face had lost its color: something I never knew was even possible.

Their expression told me it was game over, but I listened to what they said. They ran though all the options until they landed on the last dreaded one. “We’d recommend euthanasia.” I said, “ok, so just to be clear: option 1, we can try to continue with a larger tube, which probably won't work and it won't fit down her throat since she is so dehydrated, so IF by some very unlikely chance it does work, we will have a damaged esophagus and a secondary infection to deal with. But it’s not going to work, so that means we waste time, and she will die, 100%?”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

“Ok. Option 2, we leave it alone and hope it will resolve itself… which it won't. So 100% she will die a slow and painful death?”

“Well not very slowly, probably, but yes that’s correct,” (negative vet).

“Option 3, which is what you guys suggest? Euthanize her. 100% chance she’ll die, but it will be fast?”

“Yes.”

They were practically drawing up their needles now, since this IS the obvious choice.

“So… the last option is surgery.. Which you very strongly recommend against? And that is a 99% chance she’ll die when you cut her open?”

“Correct.”

“So, there is a 1% chance?”

“That’s being generous.”

“Ok. Let's do surgery.”

“Your cow will die if I cut her open. You will need a Peter Pan Miracle to save this cow. “

“Ok, well let me tell you something about this cow: she is not just a pet. She earns her keep every day. But she is not just a production animal. She is my pal. She has a huge fan club. This cow is only 2 years old and has a full life ahead of her. She should have been dead 18 hours ago, but she’s not. She’s a fighter. She wants to live. If she has a 1% chance, I'm going to give it to her.”

“Do you believe in Miracles?” (Negative vet)

“If a miracle does exist, it’s in that little cow, so you cut her open and find it.”

At this point, they both looked at me with a total mix of pity and loathing. The nice vet felt so bad, because she knew, despite my passionate speech, and despite my will, that this cow was going to die, and I saw it all over her face.

The negative vet had contempt for me. How dare I subject this poor creature to even more suffering, just because my selfish humanistic grasp on faith refused to let her go. And, beyond that, the vet had to teach a class early the next morning and performing a late night surgery on an all-but-dead animal was not on her top list of things to do.

My biggest fear at this point was that she would not try her best, and it was very clear that this was a job that would require the very best.

The tech’s started preparing Bella for her surgery, while the vets tried one last time to talk me out of it.

“ You realize, you are already $1,000 into this cow? Surgery is going to put you near $2,500.”

“Yea, well a 2,500 live cow is worth a lot more to me then a 1,000 dead one “

“ How do you feel about a 2,500 dead cow?”

That was something that was more of a reality than I was willing to consider. Now for the logistics… I was informed I would need to put a down deposit of $500 before they’d start the surgery. Where was I going to get that?? I didn’t even have 2 nickels to rub together. And even if I did, how would I get to it on a Sunday night? Murphy’s Law: if an animal can get hurt or sick on a Sunday, they will. A holiday? Great! Holiday Sunday? So much the better! Banks are closed. I called Pattie. It was bold and desperate, but I had no choice. I couldn’t let Bella die just because I was too broke to save her. Pattie asked how she was … I said “Bad”

“How bad “

“ Very bad “

“Let me talk to the vet”

“Well game over”, I figured.

She asked the vet how bad, and she said, “That cow is going to die".

Well, great. Thanks for that.

She gave me back the phone

“ Okay, I authorized them to charge it to my account.”

“What? really?”

“Yeah, I’ll take it out of your hide later.”

“You got it! Thank you! “

At this point, the student had gotten Bella ready for the surgery and the Vet’s told me I’d have to leave for this part.

“ Ok… how long should I expect?”

“Well, it’s usually done on a conscious cow, standing in a sterile environment… about an hour to hour and a half.”

“Your cow, however, is unconscious laying in a pile of straw… 2 hours at least. Although I doubt she’ll make it much longer than 15mins.”

“ Ooohkay… so the longer I don’t hear from you the better.“

So, this was about 9:45pm… My sister and I went to Starbucks… got something to eat … killed about an hour and headed back to wait. So far, so good… about 11:30, a student came out and told me I could come back in and sit with Bella while they buttoned her up. When I got to her, the negative vet said, “ Well, I’m very surprised.”

“ Is that because she is breathing?”

“Yes.”

Bella started looking better right away. They had removed a whopping 16 gallons of fermenting corn and hay from her rumen! (They cut her open through her skin and the rumen, which is one section of her stomach). Then they sew the edge of the rumen to her skin, so nothing can get behind it and cause infection in the abdomen cavity. Then, they scoop out what they can, and basically use a garden hose to get everything out. Then they take “rumen juice” from a donor cow (who is still alive) and put them into Bella’s rumen to jumpstart the “ good bacteria” growth.

The negative vet informed me that I was not out of the woods. She is still going to die. “ The damage done from her body being in such a toxic state for so long could be too severe there could be brain damage, not to mention liver damage. We don’t even know that her body won’t reject the rumen juice. If she does accept it, there is still recovery. She may just be too weak, too dehydrated. She could get laminitis, or infections at the suture site.”

Well… way to be positive…

Within an hour of finishing the operation, Bella’s temperature started to rise, and in another half hour she was conscious, and soon after that she was sitting up on her brisket ( chest piece – that’s how a cow should lay, not flat out!) My sister and I sat with her a little while longer before we were told to “go home, get some sleep, come see her in the morning. We’ll call you if anything changes “. They assured me that someone would be checking on her regularly throughout the night. And, as per my request, someone would be there to put lotion on her dry, cracked nose.

At 6:30AM, the vet on shift called to let me know that Bella got up by herself and had some water at 4am. After chores at home, I went down to UC Davis to see her.

The nice vet told me Bella would be in ICU for at least a week. There were some potential dangers but we’d take it day by day. Also, since Bella had been in milk she asked if I’d like them to milk her out each day so she doesn’t dry up. I told her “ if you think she can be milked without compromising her chances of recovering, yes. But otherwise I’d rather her be dry and alive”. Turns out after 2 days she still hadn’t even produced any milk, so it wasn’t even an option.

I went and visited Bella every day to keep her spirits up. She, being such a social creature, was not content being in a concrete cell, quarantined from everyone. She didn’t understand. By day 3 she was allowed walks up and down the aisle of the ICU barn. On the 5th day, Bella was released. The nice vet said “ I guess you got your miracle. I still can’t believe she pulled through; her PH was literally not conductive to life. We’ve been calling her Bella the miracle cow, everyone loves her!”

Even the negative vet, with her discharge orders and cautions, had a different tune. I was so grateful that she did her best work, despite the situation!

Upon arriving at home, Bella walked out of the trailer, moo’d, and let down a bunch of milk! When I told the vet, she said “ That not very common, but in this case, I’m not surprised.” And Bella lived happily ever after !

THE END.

· Fun Fact: a donor cow is kept on site for less severe cases of bloat. They have a permanent “access point” to their rumen (That looks somewhat like a gas cap) for easy siphoning of fluid. This does not hurt or harm them, and their fluid( good bacteria) repopulate to replace what is taken.

· Fun fact: Bella’s donor was named “Poppy” because she like to suck air and pop her cap open

Epilogue:

It wasn’t as simple as bringing Bella home and living happily ever after! She had to stay confined, no exercise except hand walking for 8 weeks.

Very light feed many times a day, Injections daily, treatment of infected stitches, milking, treating a damaged teat, and tests to ensure no liver damage.

Since it's such a small town where Bella lives, many residents had heard what happened and wanted to “meet this miracle cow!” so we arranged a “meet and greet fundraiser” with free tacos and a raffle, on Cinco De Mayo! Bella even got a color photo on the front page of the local newspaper just prior to the event! The support was amazing, we found out Bella is a ham for the camera and likes a crowd, and made $1100 for the vet bill!

Bella was even requested to come to a children’s birthday party, along with a pony to ride. No pony available so we did rides on Bella the Miracle Cow! It was great!

In December of that year, Bella was bred. She kept making milk for a total of 16 months. The following October she gave birth to a beautiful baby girl, Hannah, (which means “grace”)

Prologue:

When Bella first came to live in Garden Valley, she was already pregnant, but was a little young (some cows are bred at 14months so they birth at 2 years it can be ok, but some aren’t mature enough yet). Bella had a miscarriage on New Years Day. ( we took the fetus to U.C. Davis to determine the cause it turned out to be nothing other than she just couldn’t support it). I considered the event to be a blessing in disguise: we got to milk her 5 months early! Plus, although it's sad, the calf was a Jersey Bull which we would have had no purpose for. Also Bella was able to grow another year before calving again. And finally, had she been still pregnant during her bloat, she’d have 1 month left; we would have surely lost her and the calf.