- Thread starter
- #11
Brae Robertson
Exploring the pasture
She seemed to be doing better today. Visited her sister, nibbled on various things, drank about 24oz total.
Fever came back at 7pm. Shaking, teeth grinding. By 8:40 she was drowning. At 8:59 I prayed that my hand be true and that her suffering end quickly. At 9:00 she cried out, released her last breath, and at that exact moment a cricket started its song next to us. At 9:20 she was buried beneath a tall tree on the hill overlooking our house and the pasture.
I never intended to have baby goats, or even to bottle feed one. But four times a day I would set her in my lap and we would look in each other’s eyes, make little noises to each other, and she would wag her tail.
Growing up on a farm I was never this attached or affected by a death. She entered and left this world in my arms—it is all so very brief.
And we get up and do it the next day.
Fever came back at 7pm. Shaking, teeth grinding. By 8:40 she was drowning. At 8:59 I prayed that my hand be true and that her suffering end quickly. At 9:00 she cried out, released her last breath, and at that exact moment a cricket started its song next to us. At 9:20 she was buried beneath a tall tree on the hill overlooking our house and the pasture.
I never intended to have baby goats, or even to bottle feed one. But four times a day I would set her in my lap and we would look in each other’s eyes, make little noises to each other, and she would wag her tail.
Growing up on a farm I was never this attached or affected by a death. She entered and left this world in my arms—it is all so very brief.
And we get up and do it the next day.