Late July rainstorms are fairly routine for Pueblo, but the nearly three inches that fell in the wee hours of July 31st on the town’s southside was very unusual. Certainly welcomed, but still, kinda weird.

At 10:00 a.m. that morning, the final day of the Little Britches National Finals Rodeo got underway over at the State Fairgrounds. And it was a slog. I mean it was muddy. Six-inches deep of muddy, with horse apples and horse piss thrown in for that little extra measure of western flavor.

It was the kind of mud which makes you realize why it is cowboys wear cowboy boots and not hiking boots.

For most kids taking part in the rodeo, the sloppy conditions really didn’t seem to hinder their skills or abandoned; indeed, the muck may have sharpened their resolve. The poor souls who had to steer wrestle and team rope and dally rope in the timed arena (i.e., those who had to dismount their horses and/or run through a half-foot of soupy stickiness to complete their event)  didn’t complain about the less-than-ideal conditions, although they certainly would have had a sympathetic ear in me if they’d let loose with a couple expletives as they cursed their lot.